


A Piece Of Something New

by AegwynnMagna



Series: Something I can keep [1]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood, Injury, It got angsty again, Khadgar is horny, Lothar is soft, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Pining Idiots, Post Movie, Sickness, Slow Burn, angst in first chapters, au where medivh is alive post-movie, curse, fluff with plot, mentions of self harm, mix of movie and game, sounds angsty i promise it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 51,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AegwynnMagna/pseuds/AegwynnMagna
Summary: Previously titled:And they were quarantinedWhile cleaning at Karazhan, Khadgar and Lothar encounter a cursed book which releases a deadly poison. They must find a way to neutralise the curse while also preventing it from spreading further than the tower.
Relationships: Khadgar/Anduin Lothar
Series: Something I can keep [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803115
Comments: 65
Kudos: 44





	1. The book

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song _Interlude III_ by Tessa Violet

Khadgar reached higher, standing on tip toes, ignoring the dangerous wobble of the ladder beneath him. He grunted as his fingers barely grazed the book’s spine. He fell back on his heels, huffing in annoyance.

“Need a hand?”

He turned just enough to glare at Lothar. He grinned up at him, mouth full of the bite of the sandwich he’d just taken. Khadgar’s stomach grumbled at the sight, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten all day. He had woken up with his head on a stack of parchment, inked words imprinted onto his cheek, and a sudden inspiration prompting him from his desk and down the rows of the extensive library of Karazhan. The wards of the tower were wavering with every dawn and he didn’t have any time to lose doing such basic things such as eat or drink or wash.

He turned away from Lothar’s laughing gaze and reached for the book again, stretching his spine as much as he could.

“You know I could help you with that,” Lothar continued, voice muffled as he bit down on his sandwich again.

Khadgar muttered a few choice words under his breath that he very much would not like to repeat aloud for Lothar’s benefit.

“Suit yourself,” he heard as he made a last ditch effort to stretch himself to higher heights.

His fingers grabbed the top of the book’s spine. And his feet slipped.

He didn’t even have the time to yell: one moment he was falling and the other he was lying flat on his back on the cold stone floor. Every part of his body ached dully, which he supposed was a blessing, except it probably meant he had hurt his head pretty bad, which wasn’t a good thing. At all.

Lothar’s face came into view, only slightly blurry. Khadgar groaned.

“You alright down there? That was an awfully high fall for you, after all.”

Khadgar wanted to wipe the stupid smirk off his face by slapping him or… something. If he could straighten up, he would. As it was, he wasn’t totally sure he could move his legs yet. he thought Lothar would offer him a hand but of course he didn’t.

“Is that what you were reaching for?” he heard him ask.

Head swivelling at a too high velocity for the shock it had just been through, Khadgar found himself cheek flush against the stone and staring in horror as Lothar reached for the darned book. He yelled.

“Lothar, don’t-!”

Too late. Of course. Lothar had picked the book up, dusted the cover, eyed it curiously and opened it to a random page, all in a matter of seconds. Completely ignoring Khadgar’s warning.

The explosion Khadgar at least expected. The dust, the strobing lights, the vaguely threatening lightning strikes and distant sound of thunder - not so much. It all seemed a little too dramatic, even if this was a powerful curse being released. But he had known Medivh was all for the over dramatic.

Khadgar rolled over, shielding his face with his arms despite the pain that bloomed in his back at the movement. The blast hit the nearest bookshelves, making them wobble and almost topple over, several books being displaced and falling down in heaps around him. The already severely weakened ceiling was shaken by the force of the explosion and dust and rubble rained over him. He whimpered as the noises receded into a slight grumble and the dust settled.

He raised his head slowly, tentatively. Casting a glance around, desperation filled him as he saw the destruction that had been wrecked around the library. It had taken him weeks, months ago, to put a semblance of order back on the shelves as Medivh hovered by his shoulder, watching his every move, waiting for him to reveal himself as the traitor Medivh had been convinced he was back then. The library was still a place of wonder and mystery to him, even after a month of perusing its numerous books and scrolls and maps. Seeing the state it was in now reawakened a slumbering despair in his heart.

Only when he spotted Lothar’s unmoving body across the room did the despair turn into anguish.

“Lothar-” he coughed, lungs full of dust which hung unnaturally in the air around him. He coughed again, watching the specks twirl and stabilise. He pulled his long sleeve over his hand and slapped it over his mouth, knowing fully well that it was too late for such preventive measures. He scrambled to get on his knees and then up to his feet. His left leg thought differently however and he cried out as the pain shot from his knee all throughout his body, almost sending him back down lying on the floor. He looked down and, sure enough, he could see the bump where his bone was most surely broken. Blood seeping into his dark woolen pants told the rest of the story.

He cursed loudly and then again for good measure. Now he was aware of it, the pain radiated in time with his heartbeat, impossible to ignore. It made his head swim and he fought against the wave that threatened to pull him under. He couldn’t afford to pass out right now. Not until he had reached Lothar and made sure the bastard was, at the very least, still breathing.

He dragged himself on the ass across the floor, disrupting books, rubble and more dust on the way. He desperately tried to avoid inhaling any more of the unnatural powder. Some of it, he was sure, were from the cracked ceiling, but there was too much for it to only be debris. A suspicion formed in his mind that the pain and the light headedness prevented from taking hold and it fluttered away from his reach. He wildly cleared the space behind him with his aching arms and dragged himself the last couple of yards to Lothar’s body.

He grabbed the few books that had fallen atop him, tossing them away carelessly. Lothar was lying on his stomach, nose flat against the stone floor. Khadgar struggled to turn him around, only barely managing to pull him onto his side, leaning against his thigh. He wiped his skin clean of the dust and slapped his cheeks slightly, hoping to wake him. Lothar didn’t steer.

Khadgar was running out of curses and, if he was being honest, steam. He could feel his strength depleting and it didn’t help the panic currently blooming in his chest.

“Lothar, please, Light damn it. You have to wake up,” he cried, “you have to…”

He joined his hands in front of him and focused to summon just the slightest bit of life - it was all he could currently spare. The translucid red liquid pooled in his palms and he shuddered. He poured it delicately in between Lothar’s chapped and cold lips. He then bent down and laid his ear against Lothar’s chest, praying he would hear his heart beating. He didn’t what he would do if Lothar was dead - but he also didn’t know what to do if he was alive but remained unconscious. A strong beat reached his ear and he sighed in relief.

“Come on, you great beast of a man,” he murmured, “you can’t honestly let me think that’s all it takes to knock you out.”

He rubbed his hands together, warming them. He laid them on Lothar’s chest and side. He took a deep breath and summoned just the tiniest amount of pure arcane energy. He wasn’t entirely sure it would work - he’d only seen it done by a shaman conjuring pure light energy, but he figured it was worth a shot. Sometimes he hated that he had been trained in the art of arcane magic, instead of anything actually useful in this kind of situation, like Light magic or Nature. He released the arcane directly into Lothar’s body, shocking it.

Lothar gasped and tensed, rolling away from him. He heaved himself up on his hands and knees and retched, bile mixed with green glitter and tiny blue flickers splattering on the floor. He coughed and trembled, feeling as if something was running wild circles underneath his skin and it was all he could do to expel it. Eventually his tremors relented and he became aware of a loud breathing near him.

Khadgar met his gaze with wide, panicked eyes. He scrambled to his sides, slipping an arm under his, holding him up.

“Bookworm! What in the Light just happened?”

Khadgar was shaking violently now, skin worryingly pale, lips turning blue. Lothar cast a look across his body, quickly spotting the rapidly growing blood stain near his knee. He gasped as he realized the pain the young man must have been in. He felt him go slack against his chest and when he looked down, Khadgar was out.

He coughed and a small cloud of speckles flew out along with a couple of blood drops. His heart raced as he saw the blood seep into Khadgar’s white shirt. Panic made his breathing quicken. He fell backwards, suddenly weak. The dust danced around him in gentle swirls, catching the sun. He looked around the room, finally taking in the disturbed bookshelves, the debris and the green-ish dust floating around. A faint memory of the events leading to the explosion raised to the surface of his mind.

He breathed out slowly, shutting his eyes tight.

“Shit.”


	2. The curse

###### CHAPTER 2

Lothar laid Khadgar on the bed gently. He sat down next to him and put his head in his hands. The migraine wouldn’t go away and it annoyed more than scared him. He couldn’t think straight and couldn’t figure out what he needed to do first: should he try waking Khadgar? Should he remove his pant leg to tend to the wound? Did he need to reset the bone, clean the wound, sew it, bandage it? Thoughts came and went in his head never staying long enough for him to catch them.

Another coughing fit shook him. He stared blurrily at the drops of blood on his hands. He rolled his eyes and wiped his palms on his pants. The priority was taking care of Khadgar, he thought. He stood up before kneeling next to the bed. He tried to still his shaking hands as he grabbed Khadgar’s pant leg and started pulling it up as gently as he possibly could. He didn’t want a sudden shock of pain to wake Khadgar - it was better if he was unconscious for what was about to unfold.

Once the wound was revealed, Lothar whistled quietly. He had seen his fair share of wounds on the battlefield and this was definitely a tame one but he still felt second hand pain on behalf of the bookworm. Mage studies didn’t usually include a lot of compound fracture and he knew for a fact the young man did not have a high pain tolerance. He’d made fun of that enough times before and now only felt little bit guilty of that.

He studied the wound, not daring to touch it yet. He needed to disinfect it - somehow, some of that weird green dust had gotten inside the pant leg and stuck to the bloodied hair on Khadgar’s leg. That couldn’t be good. Lothar didn’t know what it was, exactly, but he knew that much.

He stumbled to his feet, blinking away the daze. He didn’t know how long he had before he passed out - or worse - which only meant he had to go fast. He rushed to the nearby bathroom, couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sheer size of the bath that was more of a pool and knelt besides the cabinets. He threw the doors open and rummaged through the dozens of bottles in there. He couldn’t tell what most of them were - wasn’t sure they were actual bath products or potions that Medivh had hidden in there in a fit of mad ingenuity. He uncorked a couple and took a whiff to determine they were not, in fact, anything close to what he was looking for. He finally was lucky and he grabbed towels as he ran out the room.

He kneeled back besides the bed, unscrewed the bottle of pure alcohol and poured a generous amount on a towel. The strong scent suddenly invading his nostrils and coating his throat did nothing to help ground him. He inhaled sharply, head swimming. He focused on his breathing and tried to control it. He managed to clear his head enough to refocus on the task at hand. He wiped the cloth gently across Khadgar’s reddened and raised skin. It was soaked with blood soon enough and he threw it aside.

Taking a deep breath and praying to whatever god might have been listening that Khadgar not wake up now, he slipped a careful hand under his knee in order to keep it still. Then, he grabbed a clean towel and pushed on the bone. He knew he shouldn’t hesitate: with one quick move, he put the bone back in place. Khadgar’s body shook violently and a moan escaped his mouth but he didn’t wake from his slumber. As much as Lothar hadn’t wanted him to be awake for this, it worried him that not even that level of pain could stir him. Eyebrows furrowed, he busied himself with cleaning the wound as best he could before running back to the bathroom, searching desperately for something - anything - to be used as a bandage.

Finding nothing, he went back into the room, already removing his shirt. He ripped large bands out of it and wrapped them tightly around Khadgar’s leg. The bandage was immediately soaked in blood as it came pouring out of the fresh wound. Lothar knew it needed to be sewn but he also didn’t trust himself to do it in his state. Not to mention, he had no idea where he would even find needle and thread in the maze that was Karazhan tower. Staring disappointedly at his handiwork, he figured it would have to do.

He sat down heavily on the ground, leaning his back against the bed. Khadgar was moaning and sighing in his deep slumber. Lothar didn’t have to reach for his forehead to know he was burning up. If the wound didn’t become infected and kill him, then whatever that green dust was would.

Lothar knew this was his fault - at least, partly. Khadgar had been reaching for the book in the first place, for whatever reason. He had known it was dangerous and had tried to warn Lothar. He hadn’t listened - that was his fault and he was ready to acknowledge that. Not that anyone was conscious to blame him right now, apart from himself. He stared at the ceiling, listening to Khadgar’s harsh breathing.

His own forehead felt like it was about to be split open by the pain. He suddenly realized how thirsty he felt and he painstakingly rose. He loathed to leave Khadgar alone but what choice did he have? Khadgar wouldn’t wake before hours, anyway, if he ever woke at all. lothar did not like to think about it, and so he put those thoughts away, and made his way towards the kitchens.

They were located in the cellar and were big enough for a full staff to be able to make a meal for a hundred people at least. Lothar knew for a fact that that many guests hadn’t been invited in decades nor a full staff hired. He still remembered the parties that Medivh used to throw, decadent, outrageous, and so much fun. But that was before… Now the kitchens were just big, and empty, and full of dust. Still, Medivh, even at the deepest of his dark pit sharing his body with a demon, had needed to drink and feed himself. He had enchanted a cupboard to always be filled with all sorts of breads and pastries, and the well outside worked well enough, once you knew how to fend off the giant spiders and occasional sprite. Thankfully, he had filled a barrel when he had arrived this morning, knowing Khadgar would not think about it for the next few days. Khadgar could conjure water whenever he pleased - Lothar, however, could not, and so relied on the well whenever he came to visit.

Lothar had arrived via gryphon right before dawn, having left Stormwind in the middle of the night. He liked to visit the bookworm at least once a week, hated to leave him alone in that tower. If he had his way, Khadgar would be safely holed up in Stormwind Keep rather than pacing the halls of this haunted place right now. But Khadgar had insisted and Medivh had agreed. Medivh, who couldn’t even step into the place without being filled to the brim with memories so dangerous that he had almost blown the whole tower up last time he had been here. He was getting better at that, or so Lothar had been told, as Khadgar worked with him to get him back in total control of his abilities and mind.

As he poured water from the barrel into a carafe, Lothar frowned when he remembered Medivh had been over just a few days ago. They had barely spoken about it. Medivh wasn’t the most talkative type ever since they had exorcised that demon Sargeras from him. But he had mentioned he was going to check on Khadgar because he had something to discuss with him. Suddenly suspicious, Lothar wondered whether that discussion was what had prompted Khadgar to reach for that book in the first place and put them in such a mess.

Of course, he didn’t want to believe it. But Medivh had said one too many times that he “still heard whispers that were not quite from this world” for Lothar to be able to trust him completely anymore. He still couldn’t forgive him for Llane’s death. For all that he was concerned, Medivh - or something in contact with him - could and very well might have wanted Khadgar to find and open that book. Had Lothar not been there, he would have been the sole victim of the curse, or whatever it was that made Lothar currently want to cough his lungs out.

He leaned over the sink, hands on the sill, trying to control his quickening breathing. His throat ached and itched and he swallowed in an effort to fight against the cough. He grabbed the carafe and drank straight from it. The cold water did help for a few seconds before his stomach cramped and it all came rushing back up.

Lothar vomited in the sink what little was left in his stomach, watered down and mixed with blood and green sparks. His head was spinning madly and he only had time to slide down to the floor before passing out.


	3. Khadgar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls mind the tags. stay safe ♥

###### CHAPTER 3

Lothar didn’t know how long he had been out. When he woke up, his head was still killing him but when he stood up, he managed to stay upright, which was an improvement. He grabbed the water carafe and made his way up the stairs back in the tower. Medivh’s quarters were in a separate wing from the library but Lothar decided to make a detour and see what the room looked like now the dust had settled - literally.

It looked as if every surface glowed a faint green. Just looking at it made his eyes water and his throat itched, so he got away quickly. When he entered Medivh’s bedroom, the first thing he noticed was the ragged breathing still filling the otherwise silent room. The next was the tiniest hint of green glowing dust on the floor, the furniture, the bed sheets. Khadgar’s chest heaved and depleted violently with each breath. He was still unconscious and didn’t appear to have woken at all while Lothar had been passed out in the kitchen. 

He set the carafe on the bedside table. He leaned over Khadgar, laid a hand on his burning forehead and sighed. He grabbed a glass from the dresser where Medivh kept his liquor. Lothar glanced at the bottles, taunting him, but he forcefully pushed the need for a drink down. He hadn’t had a drink ever since the day Llane died and he wasn’t about to start again just because he might die in the next twenty-four hours if Khadgar didn’t wake up.

Lothar slammed the glass against the table, breathing heavily. Anger and anguish twisted in his heart and it took all his strength not to smash the glass against the wall. Instead, he reigned himself in and poured water into the glass. He approached the bed slowly, climbing in on the other side than Khadgar was laid on. He scooted forward, knelt near him and raised his head with his hand. He placed the glass against his lips and tilted it experimentally. He didn’t know whether Khadgar would be conscious enough to reflexively swallow. The water trickle down his throat slowly and Lothar could feel the muscles working to swallow it down. He hoped it would help, if only a little. Then, he downed the water himself.

He fought against the desire to simply lay down and fall asleep. He could still see the dust covering every single item in the room and it made his nose itch. He knew his lungs were covered in the nasty stuff but the very fact that he was breathing in more of it even now was enough to get him to his feet and moving. He pulled the curtains open, letting the shiny afternoon sun in. It illuminated the particles in suspension in the air and Lothar felt despair fill him again. There was no way he would be able to get rid of it all, but that did not mean he should not try. Until Khadgar woke up and was able to explain just what in the Light had actually happened when he had opened that book, he didn’t know what else to do, anyway.

Lothar wandered the halls of Karazhan looking for a supply closet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of ghosts sliding silently across the tiles and it froze the blood in his veins. Perhaps, come dawn, he would be just another ghost haunting the corridors of this Light forsaken tower in the middle of the most haunted region in all of Azeroth (and, yes, he did account for the Dark Portal for that). He finally found a small room filled with old wooden buckets, all of which had holes in them, perhaps from rats, and tattered brooms. He figured it was better than nothing and grabbed one of each.

The trek back up to the bedroom was exhausting. By the time he pushed back into the room, his lungs were burning and his vision was blurred. His headache had gone past the point of pulsating until it now felt like his head was simply caught in a vice that, if it tightened any more, would make his skull explode under pressure. He drank all the water from the carafe, cursing himself for not taking any more when he had been nearer the kitchens. The water only helped slightly but it was all that he needed.

Khadgar’s breathing had slowed. He now looked to be in as peaceful a sleep as could be managed when one was fighting a magic-induced fever and suffering from a open fracture. Lothar gently dried his forehead with a towel, trying not to worry too much at the green hue Khadgar’s cheeks had developed.

Lothar got to work. He struggled to get the window open and breathed in in relief once he could feel the fresh air flowing in. He swept the floor energetically, throwing as much dust as he could out the door and into the corridor. He hoped the door would be enough to keep the dust at bay. He figured he would need to actually clean the floor with water and soap but the mere thought of walking down to the kitchens and then back up was enough to make him almost pass out, so he gave up on that particular idea.

He shook the curtains and watched the weird green dust that fell off the deep burgundy fabric. He wrinkled his nose and thought of a solution. It seemed silly, as he could still feel the itch deep in his lungs and stomach, his coughing having barely receded in the past hour. At least he hadn’t coughed up any more blood.

The sheet gave in to his knife easily and Lothar wrapped the fabric around his head, covering his mouth. He could still breathe and he hoped it was enough to shield his lungs from anymore green deadly dust. He didn’t know if it was actually deadly - he rather hoped it wasn’t - but it certainly wasn’t harmless. He cast a worried glance Khadgar’s direction but the young man was still unconscious. The bandage on his leg was bright red and Lothar thought that he needed to change it. His gaze focused on the thin layer of dust all over the bed and coating Khadgar’s clothes. He bit his lip, hesitating.

Eventually, however, he had to face the facts. Khadgar’s clothes, and his own too, were covered in the stuff and needed to be gotten rid of. He would find clothes in Medivh’s pantry. It maybe wouldn’t be the most fitting, for either of them - Medivh had always been a little eccentric - but it would suffice.

He bent over Khadgar’s still body and carefully started removing his clothes. As he gently removed each layer of Khadgar’s outfit, he started to realized how the fall had otherwise affected his body. It had been a hard fall and from quite a big height. Khadgar’s chest and arms were marred with developing bruises, red and blue and aggressive. But that wasn’t what held Lothar’s attention. The bookworm always wore long sleeves. Elwynn’s temperate weather allowed that - and most often, more as the cold came down from the mountains and covered the whole of Stormwind city in ice.

The mark of the Kirin Tor stood out starkly against Khadgar’s pale skin, so incredibly black. Lothar remembered when Medivh had gotten his own, when he had been about eleven years old. He had come to Stormwind specifically to show it to his friends Anduin and Llane. That had been the last they had seen of him for years, actually. It was the mark of a mage, of a master of the arcane. Of a pawn of the Kirin Tor. Medivh had loathed it as much as taken a point of pride in it. He would gladly show it off to guests during the infamous Karazhan’s banquets he had hosted in the years just after he had become Guardian. Khadgar, on the other hand, preferred to keep it hidden from others’ gazes.

The mark had been the first thing Lothar had wanted to know about the man - the boy, as he had believed at first, seeing Khadgar in the barracks that fateful day, less than a year ago. He had slammed him backwards on the table in a flurry of paper parchments and the sound of breaking glass as the ink pots hit the ground. He had pulled his sleeve and uncovered his forearm, trapped under the compass, and he had gazed in contempt upon the tattooed skin. He had thought for sure that he had been sent by the Kirin Tor to meddle in the kingdom’s business or to go behind Medivh’s back, as the Guardian had so often warned him they might do. Medivh didn’t trust them and so Lothar didn’t. How could he have known that Khadgar was actually so much more similar to Medivh than was probably safe?

Back then, all Lothar had cared about was the black eye marring the pale skin of Khadgar’s wrist. It had revolted him - for more reasons than one, and some that he still didn’t want to admit to today. But because of it, he had missed something - some important detail. He traced the thin white lines with the tip of his finger, the shaky raised path of them across Khadgar’s wrist. He checked the right only to find more cuts, almost perfectly parallel. Some of them were almost completely gone - and some looked as if they had been done recently. Too recently for Lothar to feel only sadness and pity. He didn’t know what to do with the anger, though, so he bottled it away. He closed his fingers around Khadgar’s wrist, tightening his grip, wishing the scars away. But they stubbornly stayed.

Lothar finished undressing Khadgar as quickly as he could and then stripped himself of his clothing. He threw the contaminated clothes into the empty bath. He figured he should probably burn them - no amount of cleaning would guarantee that they were free of the poison. It wouldn’t matter much, anyway, if they were both dead come dawn, so Lothar decided to let it be for now. He came back into the room to search through the pantry for some clothes but froze in the doorway.

Khadgar’s wide eyes met his and he flushed.

“Um, hi.”


	4. Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont go out, read fanfic
> 
> Padswift: fanon name for the gryphon

###### CHAPTER 4

“Lothar…”

He rushed to Khadgar’s side, grabbing the bucket he had left by the bed.uJst in time for Khadgar to lean over the side of the bed and retch. Khadgar’s belly was empty save for bile and more of that wretched green dust, turned into goo. It made Lothar gag a little. Khadgar sagged against him, breathing heavily and spitting into the bucket. Lothar pat his shoulder gently and pushed him on his back. Khadgar muttered his thanks, eyes rolling backwards. Lothar put his hand on his forehead, reassured to feel he had cooled down a little. That, or Lothar had reached such a high level of fever himself that he couldn’t feel the difference anymore.

He left the bucket in the bathroom and closed the door. Khadgar had sat up, staring blearily at his surroundings.

“Lothar,” he said, “where in the Light are my clothes?”

Lothar cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment - he was entirely too much aware of his own nakedness. He hurried to the pantry and scrambled to pull clothes out of them. He found a large silk bathrobe that he quickly slipped into, knowing it looked ridiculous. He didn’t care, it was fabric hiding his naked skin from Khadgar’s confused gaze. He searched more meticulously for a pair of pants and a shirt for Khadgar to put on. He handed them to Khadgar, avoiding staring at him.

Khadgar grunted as he reached for the clothes.

“Wait, let me help you,” the words were out of his mouth before he had really thought about them.

He flushed but Khadgar closed his eyes and nodded in relief.

“Here, lean forwards,” Lothar whispered. Khadgar went easily and Lothar carefully slipped his injured arms in the sleeves. He left the shirt opened, only draping Khadgar’s chest with the lapels. Then, he raised each of Khadgar’s legs inside the pants and hiked them up. It brought back memories of dressing Callan when he had been just a baby and pain shot, raw and real, from his chest. He closed his eyes and let the wave wash over him.

“Lothar?” he heard and it brought him back harshly.

“Yeah,” he said, clipped toned.

He stepped away from Khadgar, wringing his hands, desperate for something to do or say.

“What happened?” Khadgar asked, brow furrowed.

Lothar sighed and sat down on the bed, back to Khadgar.

“What do you remember, exactly?”

“I was on the ladder, reaching for the… book,” he finished with a groan. He threw his head backwards against the headboard.

Lothar nodded.

“You fell, broke your leg,” he explained. “Probably got a concussion too but what do I know. I picked up the book,” he cringed.

“Oh for the Void’s sake.”

Lothar turned his face towards him, frowning. “You were the one wanting the book in the first place! How was I supposed to know!”

Khadgar clicked his tongue. “You’re not allowed to touch anything and you know that. Everything in this Light damned tower is cursed one way or another. We’ve agreed - you stay out of the way and I do the work. Shit.”

He raised his hand to massage his temples. His head must have been killing him the same as Lothar’s still was. Lothar sighed.

“Ok,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. How do we fix it?”

“What are the symptoms?”

“Um, vomiting, headache, passing out, coughing blood. Oh, and that green dust everywhere.”

Khadgar looked around, noticing the faint particles floating lazily in the late afternoon sun.

“Definitely a curse,” he said.

“Great,” Lothar sneered. “So what do we do?”

“Medivh would know,” Khadgar sighed. “He put the curse there. Hopefully he remembers, although that’s improbable. His memory is still spotty,” he explained uselessly.

Lothar rolled his eyes.

“Okay, well, you stay put, and I’ll go. Padswift is coming back to get me at sundown.”

He patted Khadgar’s uninjured leg before standing up but was stopped by a hand catching his wrist.

“Are you kidding? You’re not going back to Stormwind. Not until we’ve gotten rid of this curse for good. You’re highly contagious right now. We were lucky it’s only you and me here otherwise we would have ourselves one great plague to deal with. Let’s just hope no stalwart adventurer decides to swing by any time soon.”

Lothar paled. “How dangerous is that thing?”

“You want the truth?” Khadgar asked. “I don’t know. But we will be lucky if we survive it.”

Lothar fell back down on the bed, breath knocked out of him. He had suspected that - of course - but it was different hearing it said to him so bluntly.

Khadgar laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“Medivh was over a couple days ago,” he reminded him, “and he said he would come back soon to check on me. We just have to wait for him. He’ll know what to do.”

Lothar scoffed. “You said he probably doesn’t even remember the curse.”

“Yes,” Khadgar said, patience wearing thin, “but he’ll know a way to figure out a cure. He’s lost part of his memory but none of his knowledge. Trust me. And him.”

Frowning, Lothar grunted. Trust Medivh… In spite of Khadgar’s insistence, he still didn’t feel comfortable having his life be dependent on the former Guardian. It increased the despair that had filled him ever since he had woken up after the explosion.

“When did he say he would come back?”

“End of the week.”

“Khadgar,” Lothar said sternly. “It is Wednesday.”

Khadgar shook his head.

“We won’t make it til then. Khadgar, there has to be something we can do.”

He pursed his lips, in deep thought.

“I’m going to need the book.”

He started sitting forward and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Lothar jumped, put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down. Khadgar protested with a sharp surprised laugh.

“What-”

“Oh no,” Lothar grumbled, “you’re not going anywhere. Your leg is broken and you still have a fever,” he chided, hand coming up automatically to rest against Khadgar’s scalding forehead.

“And you don’t?” Khadgar raised an eyebrow.

Lothar pulled a face at him and ignored him.

“I’ll go get the book. And I won’t even touch it,” he added, grabbing a clean towel and twirling it around.

Khadgar shot him a dark glance. “Smart boy,” he sniped.

The glare he received was enough to make a small smile stretch his lips. He started dozing off as soon as Lothar was out of the room. Shadows danced in the corners of his eyes and light flashed. Khadgar thrashed on the bed and the pain in his leg made him wake up yelling. He cursed loudly and closed his fists into the sheets.

“You alright there?”

He glared at Lothar, although his gaze softened in the face of Lothar’s obvious worry. It was clear he understood how dire their situation was and this was no time for joking around. It made Khadgar feel sorry for him.

“It hurts,” he said in between gritted teeth.

Lothar hummed. 

“We should clean the wound.”

He went and got the alcohol along with a clean towel. He carefully unwrapped the soaked bandage. It stuck to the skin where the blood had started drying. Khadgar hissed and huffed in pain.

“We need to have a medic take a look at this,” Lothar said, shaking his head. Even as he said so, he doused the towel in alcohol and gently swiped the reddened skin. The edges of the wound were red and angry. The blood no longer ran freely from the open injury but a hematoma was spreading rapidly down Khadgar’s leg and over his knee. Lothar’s brow furrowed as he cleaned it. Then, he stood up to find a clean shirt in Medivh’s closet he could use as a new bandage. Once Khadgar’s leg was once again wrapped, he stood standing over Khadgar with his hands on his hips.

“You better find a solution in this,” he said, grabbing the book he had wrapped in the towel, and dropping it in Khadgar’s lap.

The bookworm struggled to sit up from where he was half lying on the bed. Lothar sighed, knowing they needed Khadgar’s knowledge right now more than he needed rest. He helped him sit up and slipped an extra pillow behind his back for support. Then, he cut another band out of the sheet and handed it to him.

“Put this on your mouth,” he said, mentioning to his own makeshift mask. “Better than to keep inhaling that shit.”

Khadgar nodded in thanks and wrapped the cloth around his head. Then, he carefully opened the book. They both froze, fully expecting another nasty curse to explode in front of them. But nothing happened.

“Well,” Khadgar said, dark and serious. “I’m going to need pen and paper.”

He didn’t look up to see Lothar’s agreement. He was immediately focused on reading the book. Lothar hoped to the Ghostlands and back that he would find a cure in the darned thing - or anything to slow down the poison spreading in their veins before Medivh got here.


	5. Spectral dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's got a crushhhh
> 
> My Karazhan is more inspired by the game than the movie.

CHAPTER 5

Khadgar accepted the offered glass of water wordlessly. The bed around him was littered in parchment covered in his tiny handwriting. His thighs were coated in dust from the pen that had needed to be sharpened so many times Lothar had just let Khadgar keep the knife. Khadgar downed the glass and handed it back to Lothar, who took it with an eye roll.

“Alright,” Khadgar sighed. He picked up the piece of paper he had been feverishly writing on and blew on it to dry the ink. “Here’s all I should need.”

Saying so, he gave the paper to Lothar who gazed at it curiously.

“You want me to get all that?”

“Well, yes. If you want to live another day, that is.”

Lothar refrained from sticking his tongue out, because it was childish and also because Khadgar had a point. He glanced at the list again, glad to see that most ingredients could be found either in the room or the connected bathroom.

Khadgar was already back into his books, that he had ordered Lothar to go fetch in the library. Since he hadn’t had anything better to do anyway so he had gladly helped him however he could. But looking at the list of things Khadgar now required, he couldn’t help but frown. Wine he was sure he would find in the Master’s cellar right outside Karazhan ; bones - weird, but ok ; feathers, he knew where the gryphons used to be kept, back when this tower was an actual place of knowledge and arcane research rather than… whatever Medivh had turned it into over the years. But....

“Spectral dust?”

Khadgar raised his head to stare at him expectantly. He had caught his pencil in between his teeth and it dangled, attracting Lothar’s eyes.

“Hm?”

“Where do I find spectral dust, exactly?”

Khadgar plucked the pencil out of his mind and twirled it in between his fingers.

“Ghosts,” he said.

Lothar waited but no more words were forthcoming.

“Ghosts,” he repeated. “Sure. Do I ask or…?”

Khadgar snorted. “You kill one. Surely you’re able to kill one ghost, even in your current state,” he said, casting a critical glance over Lothar’s whole body.

Lothar squared his shoulder reflexively before he could realize how stupid that was. Khadgar raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. Lothar squinted at him, refusing to let himself be embarrassed when Khadgar was so obviously trying to taunt him.

“Okay,” he said, “anything else?”

Khadgar shook his head slowly, turning his attention back to the papers scattered around him, finger tracing and twisting his lips. Lothar rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet “Bookworm” that Khadgar didn’t hear.

The first stop he made was in the kitchens. The fever really wasn’t letting up and his throat felt sore and dry. He drank an entire carafe, standing next the barrel that was rapidly depleting. He would need to go out and fill one up soon, he thought, but quickly after followed : if we survive to see the next day.

Night had fallen on Deadwind Pass about an hour ago - Lothar couldn’t tell for sure. As the temperature fell drastically, he was glad to have switched from the bathrobe he had first slipped on to some woolen pants and a shirt and fitted vest. He didn’t remember Medivh ever wearing these. He could barely remember the last time he had seen him in anything but a robe, but he couldn’t say he was complaining.

He had gone out to the balcony to welcome Padswift, his gryphon, and had had the hardest time getting her not to come too close to him. Khadgar had warned him that he was highly contagious and he didn’t have anything to keep the gryphon here so he had sent her back to Stormwind. She had been highly distraught by the fact he had not gone back with her but it was for the best. Hopefully, seeing that he hadn’t come back, Medivh would figure out that something was seriously wrong. Lothar never stayed the night - and as soon as he thought that, a furious blush had filled his cheeks with fire. Medivh wouldn’t realize anything was wrong before at least another full day, he realized gloomily. Medivh would be far too happy to think that Lothar was actually spending the night here, for once, or so his latest quips about Lothar’s time spent in the tower would suggest.

He had had to wait for a moment before he felt like his embarrassment was less obvious enough to face Khadgar again. Just seeing the man again, sitting with his left leg crossed underneath his injured right one, leaning over the various books and the tornado of papers he had unleashed about the bed, was enough to bring the heat back to his cheeks.

If he was honest - and Lothar rarely was with himself, so he knew this was serious - he didn’t know when he started being attracted to the mage. It certainly wasn’t when they first met and Khadgar had looked like a pup caught doing something naughty. It wasn’t even when he had stood up to him and then to Llane, very obviously not caring that he was the Lion of Azeroth and could put him in a dungeon for the rest of his life with a snap of his fingers, or that Llane was the actual King of Stormwind. 

Khadgar had been arrogant, and careless, and frankly, a little annoying, and at this time, Lothar was ready to admit, he did feel a little fond of the boy, who he was starting to realize could not be called a boy, exactly. He was young, but nowhere near as young as Callan, who Lothar still couldn’t accept was apparently a man, in the eyes of society. But Khadgar had experience and spoke his mind and by the time they had defeated an actual demon together, well Lothar had to admit that he was kind of cute.

And of course, Medivh, hours into being awake and free of said demon, had picked up on it. He had been pestering him about it for a whole month and Lothar couldn’t deny that, aside the very real and valid reasons he had for distrusting the former Guardian and avoiding him. And Medivh avoided him right back - except for those times that Taria forced them to sit in front of each other at meals and they exchanged snippy remarks which made her want to throw them both in a cell. Lothar rather hoped she would give up sooner than they would make up, because he really didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Lothar would never dare not show up to his sister’s table so he prayed for the day that Medivh would finally tire of his teasing and leave him alone.

No, Medivh would not worry about Lothar not being back tonight. Medivh would gloat and smirk that way he used to when he was twenty years old and Lothar would roll his eyes at the thought if it didn’t imply his and Khadgar’s inevitable death by sunrise. Taria would notice Lothar’s missing, but not let herself worry before at least another day, too late to come to their rescue. By the best prognosis, help would be sent to Karazhan in two days and all that would be left then would be two corpse covered in green dust.

Lothar sighed and got to work. He hoped animal bones would suffice - he really didn’t fancy going down the crypt right now and picking the human bones that Medivh had shown him one day, grim-faced and uncharacteristically quiet. He found feathers exactly where he thought he would, the old gryphon nests unnaturally empty. 

Making his way down the exterior stairs, Lothar let his gaze embrace the valley below, covered in mist. He wondered whether it had ever been filled with luxurious vegetation the kind that grew in Elwynn and was slowly dying in Brightwood.

The Master’s cellar was situated outside the immediate circle of the tower. The house that welcomed its entrance looked like it hadn’t been cleaned or even stepped into in years, which Lothar knew to be the case. But there was something decidedly strange about the way it sat, empty and cold, in the desolate field around Karazhan. The time of Medivh’s possession had not been kind on the region and the final fight against Sargeras had dealt the last blow to the vegetation and fauna that it once held. Dead trees and ghosts of foxes were all one was likely to encounter, now, Lothar thought wistfully as he made his way to the cellar.

The heavy wooden doors leading to the cellar were strewn wide open, rusty hinges well on the way to rotten. Lothar raised the lit lantern he had gotten from the kitchens and illuminated the steep staircase, half-expecting monsters to come howling and snapping their jaws at him. But there was nothing ; no beasts, no ghosts. Lothar released the breath he had been unknowingly holding. He quickly went down the steps and grabbed a random bottle of wine. He could see that the cellar went far deeper than the initial rows of bottles and barrels. He had actually explored it, years ago, with Medivh and Llane, one day they had gotten spectacularly drunk. Apart from a truly impressive amount of spider webs, that made Lothar shiver just thinking about the size of the insects that had weaved them, it was disappointingly empty. Nowadays, however, something didn’t sit too well with him and so he made his escape as quick as he could.

He looked around as he emerged from the darkened house into the bleak moonlight. The nights around here were unnaturally quiet. It made Lothar’s spine tingle with goosebumps and he thought he should find an appropriate weapon sooner rather than later. Not that he had yet to encounter anything dangerous or aggressive which he figured he had Khadgar to thank for. After Medivh had gone, apparently most of the wards had started wavering and creatures from other worlds started pouring through the tower and into the valley around. Khadgar had worked to raise the wards again and ever since was looking for a way to purify the tower of its dark energy, once and for all. Lothar rather thought that it was a pointless quest but Khadgar wouldn’t leave before he was satisfied. Keeping him company once a week was the compromise they had found after Khadgar had vehemently refused Lothar’s pleas to come back to Stormwind.

Lothar hurried back inside the tower, heading straight for the descending stairs, past the stables and the kitchens. The arsenal was still fully stocked. Lothar carefully weighted several swords before choosing the one that most suited him. He left the bag of ingredients in the kitchens to be picked up later. 

Now, all that was left to do was hunt a ghost.


	6. Slow down

###### CHAPTER 6

With a last ear-shattering howl, the ghost stretched towards the sky before collapsing on itself, leaving behind only a small hard shell, some white dust, and deep silence.

Lothar panted loudly. The tip of his sword hit the ground with a thump and he didn’t try to raise it again. His head was spinning and his ears whooshing. He gulped in large mouthfuls of air trying to still the beating of his racing heart. He felt so out of breath that he was nauseous. He knelt down and carefully gathered the thin powder in a small pouch. He closed it tightly and straightened up. The movement alone made him so dizzy he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t pass out again.

Only when he was confident he could walk did he start towards the tower again.

The ghost hadn’t been hard to find. Once one started paying attention, they were actually everywhere around Karazhan, and in the tower itself. He had figured he would have more room to maneuver out in the open rather than in a narrow corridor. Besides, the ghosts inside the tower never did seem to pay him any mind.

He had been lucky, he figured, musing as he made his way up slowly, cursing the person who had decided to build Karazhan in the very first place. He had no idea how to taunt a ghost or even only attract their attention. Actually, until today, he had had no idea how to fight one, never mind defeat it. But he had done that and it had been pretty straightforward, all things considered. The ghosts that lingered outside the tower were so translucid that at first glance, Lothar’s eyes had simply slid over them.

A movement at the corner of his eyes made his turn - just in time. A glowing form was heading straight for him at high velocity. He raised his sword to protect himself against the incoming enemy, uselessly. The spirit ran through him, its wail shaking him to the core and freezing him. He shook himself free of the lethargy threatening to pull him under and he swiveled around to face the next attack head down. It seemed the first blow had considerably weakened the ghost who hovered a few feet behind.

Lothar finally could get a good look at it - through his gaseous body, he could see the dead trees and the tower walls. Its arms were long, almost touching the floor it floated above, large hands thinning out into sharp claws. And it had no head.

A terrible sound erupted from it and Lothar was taken aback to realize that it was screaming. The noise pierced into his head and made the headache he’d been having ever since the explosion seem like nothing. He couldn’t help but scream at the pain. He clutched his sword and raised it. He hacked at the ghost and the sword cut through it, coming out the other side with wisps of blue smoke clinging to it. The ghost’s cry stopped immediately instead being replaced by a deep unsettling silence.

It was - recharging, Lothar suddenly understood. Not wanting not miss his chance, he quickly charged and swung his sword widely, cutting through the ghost over and over again, despite the appearance that it was useless. In a last desperate attempt, the spirit screeched but it was weak: Lothar barely cringed as he brought his sword down once more.

And just like that, the ghost was gone.

Thinking back on it, Lothar figured that it had been more scary than actually dangerous. It had been disappointingly easy to defeat. Honestly, there had only really needed a few blows for it to vanish. Still, as he painstakingly walked the stairs to Medivh’s quarters, his legs felt heavy and his breaths short.

He hobbled to the room, pushing in. Khadgar raised his head to greet him and immediately frowned. Lothar dropped the precious bag of dust atop the bed.

“There,” he panted.

“Are you alright?” Khadgar asked.

“Peachy,” Lothar breathed, before collapsing to the floor.

He came to on the bed and distantly wondered how he had gotten there. Something soft and wet dragged against his face and he flinched away from it.

“Oh,” Khadgar whispered, “you’re back.”

Lothar carefully pried his eyes open. Khadgar’s face came into view, lit by candles and very close. Lothar cleared his throat and croaked:

“How long was I out?”

Khadgar raised an eyebrow and answered lightly: “Oh, about a whole minute.”

Then, he grinned and Lothar grabbed the nearest thing in reach, which happened to be a pile of parchment, and slapped Khadgar’s head. Khadgar cackled and slid off the bed.He grabbed hold of a long wood stick propped on the wall and used it to stand up without putting weight on his injured leg. Lothar sat up, wondering where Khadgar had found the crutch, especially without being able to move.

“Well,” Khadgar said before he could ask, “You’ve found everything, then.”

He grabbed the tiny animal bones and twirled them around his fingers. Lothar grimaced.

“Yeah. You sure this will work?”

Khadgar turned and looked at him, eyes gleaming with feverish excitement.

“It will work,” he said.

Lothar widened his eyes and nodded more to placate the mage than to agree. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted Khadgar’s judgement in his abilities right now. But he didn’t have much choice, now, did he? He shook his mind free of the last of the fog and stood up, coming to stand near Khadgar. He had spread out all his notes atop the bed. Lothar had actually been lying directly on top of some and he guiltily straightened them out.

“Ah!” Khadgar stopped him. “Don’t touch those. They’re charged.”

Lothar stilled, fingers inches away from carefully drawn out glyphs. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and slowly straightened up. He took a step for good measure and let Khadgar set up the last of the spell.

“So, what exactly is it you’re trying to accomplish?”

“If this works,” Khadgar said, not helping Lothar’s worry, “this should slow down the spreading of the poison in our veins and give us enough time for either Medivh to come here or for us to find a solution ourselves.”

“Okay,” Lothar said slowly. “And if it doesn’t?”

Khadgar turned towards him and cringed. “Then we’re dead in a few hours.”

Lothar nodded. “Right.”

“Right,” Khadgar stated. “Let’s go.”

He joined his hands at the fingertips and took a deep breath. Lothar took a few more steps backwards until his back hit the wall. Despite not being trained in the arcane art, even he could feel the sudden gathering of energy in the room, concentrating around Khadgar. The candles flickered and the air seemed to become thicker.

Suddenly, Lothar couldn’t breathe. He gasped, to no use, as his throat felt as if it was completely closed off. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He gazed with watering eyes at Khadgar.

The mage looked unfazed and frozen in place. The air around him seemed to waver and tremble. A blurred aura surrounded him. Lothar wanted to reach for him but he found himself crushed underneath an invisible weight. He put one hand on the floor to keep himself up and started crawling towards Khadgar, hoping to snap him out of his trance so this - whatever this was - would stop.

His hand brushed against the back of Khadgar’s pants. And he was violently pushed away. He hit the wall and his head was pinned back. The flames of the candles suddenly roared and grew so tall they almost licked the ceiling. Lothar gasped as the sudden inflow of air through his lungs. An incredible amount of energy rushed towards him, filling him to the brink and he felt seconds away from passing out.

But the flow stopped. The candles flickered back to their normal height. Lothar slumped forward. He fought against the sudden exhaustion that filled him. A loud thump made him raised his head. Blood rushed upwards and he had to blink to dispel the black dots invading his vision. His heart missed a beat when he saw Khadgar lying still on the floor. He dragged himself across the ground to reach the mage and laid his head on his chest.

He let out a relieved laugh when he felt Khadgar’s chest heaving and deflating in a steady rhythm. He straightened up and cupped Khadgar’s face.

“Come on, kid,” he whispered.

But Khadgar was unconscious. Lothar sighed, refusing to let worry overwhelm him. This was a powerful spell Khadgar had just cast, if its effect were to be believed. Khadgar needed to rest, that was all.

Lothar struggled to stand up. He himself felt as if he had been drained of all his energy, not that he had had a lot to begin with. Between the sickness and the fight with the ghost, he had felt worn out but this fatigue was even deeper. And his lungs hurt as if they had been bruised making every movement painful.

But Lothar ignored his body’s pleas and he knelt so he could slip his arms underneath Khadgar’s unconscious body. He lifted him, grunting from the effort. He laid him down on the bed, uncaring of the numerous papers still scattered all over it. Then, he pulled the covers from under him and gently laid them over him. He pushed the papers to the floor, clearing the rest of the bed, before slumping on the other side, his whole body seeming to sigh in relief.

He was fast asleep before the papers even had the time to settle on the ground. They fluttered about the room, all of them perfectly blank.


	7. The library

###### CHAPTER 7

Khadgar awoke before sunrise. He breathed in deeply as soon as he was conscious enough to do so. He could follow the path of the air down his throat and through his lungs and the way it was broken down as the right molecules slipped into his veins. As he exhaled, he could feel his lungs crushing the air so it would flow out, clearing his body of its waste on the way out. He chuckled, amazed.

It had worked. His spell had worked and wonderfully so. He could breathe, for one, without feeling like his cells were deteriorating at the speed of light itself. He no longer felt like each time he turned his head he could cough until his lungs were raw, or puke until his stomach was so empty it felt like it could turn inside out, or simply pass out. He felt good.

Of course he knew that it was only a temporary reprieve and that the illness, though hidden, was still very much real and working on destroying them slowly. Khadgar’s spell had only tried to slow down the process and neutralise the symptoms so they might work more efficiently. But it still felt really good.

The candles had burned out while he slept. The moonlight highlighted the room’s corners and cast a clear light on the bed. Khadgar’s eyes fell on Lothar’s asleep form, curled in on his side. His gaze softened as he looked upon the warrior. He looked peaceful in his sleep, features smooth, mouth slightly opened letting his soft breaths in and out, his hand curled into a loose fist lying next to his face on the sheets.

Under the moonlight, the bed still glistened, the light catching onto the thin poisonous dust. Rid of the fear it instilled in him, Khadgar could now find beauty in the way it covered every surface in green tinted glitter. It looked as if stars from another world had fallen down on earth. Everywhere his gaze roamed it caught on the tiny sparkles. Khadgar felt discouragement gain him.

What if Medivh didn’t come in time? What if he didn’t know how to cure this? What if the dust spread and infected the nearby regions of Duskwood and Redridge? Khadgar closed his eyes against the flow of questions and focused on his breathing, his wonderfully free breathing. He had done everything he possibly could for now. In the morning, he would start searching in the books for a solution until Medivh came. And he would come, Khadgar thought firmly, aware that he was trying too hard to convince himself, of course he would.

Instead of obsessing further on this, Khadgar decided to get up. The illness and the spell had thoroughly drained him of his energy but sleeping had helped and, besides, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep so soon. Restless energy ran through his veins, spurring him to his feet and down to the library. It was still as much of a mess as they had left it, of course. The explosion had ruined weeks of Khadgar’s work to tidy it. 

He started by picking up every book that had fallen to the ground and piling them up on the tables. He didn’t even try to organize them in any way. Then, he went and found the curse detector he had used when he had only started going through the books. Very quickly he had noticed that some of these books were closer to time bombs than actual novels. He had thought of this detector which a teacher back at Kirin Tor, one of the few he remembered fondly, had thought useful to gift him back when he had started exploring the Citadel’s library on his own.

The detector had the shape and size of a cricket and was made out of metal. It was surprisingly heavy because of the intricate mechanism inside. Khadgar took out a thin metal rod and wounded the cricket. Placing it near each of the books, he tested whether they were safe enough to open to check the insides. If they weren’t, the cricket was prompt on informing him, screaming shrilly. Even being used to it, Khadgar still cringed.

He was busy reshelving the trapped books when Lothar joined him in the library. He didn’t bother trying to foil the traps to open the books this time. Most of them he recognized from his last organizing and those he didn’t he placed at the end of the row. He had placed the trapped books on the upper gallery so they would be harder to access to uninformed people who might visit Karazhan. For the month he had been here, however, he hadn’t seen anyone but Medivh and Lothar.

Lothar entered the library quietly, looking around for Khadgar. He had woken up with dawn and had immediately noticed Khadgar’s absence. Despite his grumbling stomach he had set out to find him. He had a suspicion that the mage hadn’t eaten and he intended to drag him to the kitchens, kicking and screaming if necessary.

He couldn’t see Khadgar anywhere but he didn’t doubt that he was in there somewhere, in between two towering rows of books. This was the room that he spent the most time in, to Medivh’s delight and Lothar’s despair. 

The bookshelves rose several feet ahead any human’s head, with the top shelves only being accessible with a ladder. They covered most of the windows that had been constructed into the thick walls. Only the top windows were left uncovered, so high that no one had bothered to clean them in ages. They were so grimy with ash and dust that only the tiniest sliver of light could get through them. The upper gallery loomed overhead and looked as if it could topple down at any minute. If it wasn’t for the magical lights hanging from the tall ceiling, Lothar wasn’t sure lanterns would be enough to light this place. To add to the hospitality, the scent of old books and wax was overtaken by the smell of dust and moldy paper.

He stepped inside and put down the stack of books he had brought back from the bedroom. He noticed that Khadgar had cleaned up after the explosion. Some books were still left to be reshelved, stacked high on the table. He bent so he could cast a glance at the titles. Most didn’t have anything written on the spines however. Curiously, he reached to pick up the book on the top of the stack.

“Don’t,” Khadgar’s voice echoed loudly.

Startled, Lothar swivelled, head automatically raising towards the sound. Khadgar was leaning on the thin railing of the upper gallery, a cocky smile on his lips. Lothar glared at him.

“Right, right,” he said, “you do the work, I stay out of the way. Light.”

Khadgar cackled. He made his way over the rickety stairs which creaked with each step. He had his crutch to help him and awkwardly hopped on one foot down the stairs. Instinctively, Lothar moved closer to help him but stopped before he could actually reach for him. Khadgar was way more balanced on the crutch than Lothar expected. He hopped over to the table and checked out the book Lothar had been about to pick up.

“The Stone of the Tides,” he read. “Quite harmless. Have any interest in Troll legends?” he asked, leafing through.

“Not particularly,” Lothar said gruffly. He gestured to the pile of books he had brought. “I’d offer to help you clean up but…”

Khadgar nodded, not taking his eyes away from the book. “Better not.”

“Right.”

Silence hung in between them. Khadgar’s lips moved slightly as he read silently. He was so engrossed in the text that he didn’t notice anything strange until Lothar grabbed his arm.

“Khadgar,” he said urgently. “Look.”

Looking around, Khadgar had to hold back a sigh. The library around them was disappearing increasingly fast, being replaced by a lush forest. The smell of moldering books gave way to that of burning wood, humid vegetations and sweat. Khadgar recognized the vision immediately. It was a recurring one - one of Medivh’s memories which hung around the tower like so many spiderwebs hanging from the ceilings. In only a month of staying at Karazhan, Khadgar had seen this particular vision twice already. It always crept up on him when he was reading in the library. It had never happened with Lothar around, though.

With so much going on, Khadgar had not had the time yet to truly study the visions. He didn’t know how they happened, or why, or if they were of the actual events or skewed by memory or fantasy. And he had no idea how to exit one, short of getting out of the room, hoping not to run into a wall.

He closed the book he was still holding about the Troll legends. He placed it down where he knew the table was and it disappeared. He crossed Lothar’s gaze.

“Come on,” he sighed. “This ought to be interesting.”

He turned Lothar around so he faced the bonfire now quietly burning in the middle of a small clearing. The trees rose high above them, almost completely obscuring the night sky. Shimmering shapes hitched in and out of sight until they stabilized. Khadgar heard Lothar’s sharp intake of breath before the faces were even clearly recognizable.

“What in the Light…” he whispered.

“It’s a vision,” Khadgar thought good to explain. “It isn’t real. Just relax.”

Sounds came trickling in, first the crackling of the fire, then the wind through the leaves overhead and finally the voices. The younger Anduin’s laugh reached them, soon joined by those of Medivh and Llane.

Llane was speaking and though they could hear his voice, the words remained mumbled. One thing was clear, however, and it was that whatever he was saying, it was hilarious.

Khadgar knew this scene by heart and so he turned to observe Lothar’s reaction. His gaze was stuck on the younger Llane, alive, healthy and laughing. His eyes filled with tears. Khadgar smiled softly.

But he knew what was going to happen next. He had seen it happen twice already and it hadn’t lost any of its violence. He was quite happy watching Lothar instead of the unfolding scene this time around. Even if he knew the outcome, he still felt his heart beat just a little faster in anticipation. 

He heard the younger Medivh make a witty quip back at Llane and younger Lothar’s bellowing laughter. And suddenly, now Lothar’s eyes widened just as a terrible crash resounded and the laughter was abruptly interrupted.


	8. The vision

###### CHAPTER 8

Khadgar didn’t have to turn around to know that the trolls still towered threateningly over the three frail humans. They had jumped up to their feet as soon as the trolls had burst from the tree cover, grabbing their weapons. They seemed dangerously outnumbered but they were two of the greatest warriors and an insanely powerful mage.

The first time he had seen this scene, Khadgar remembered, he had been so taken aback that he hadn’t paid much attention to the details. It hadn’t been his first vision, so he had known what he was experiencing at least; but seeing the three friends, looking so much younger, happier - and alive - had been a great shock, even to him. The last he remembered of Llane was his lifeless body in its coffin before he had grabbed his sword and handed it to Lothar. And Medivh seemed to have aged so much faster than his two companions. In the vision, he looked so young, not even out of his teenage years yet, and neither did Llane or Lothar.

Khadgar observed the older Lothar’s features carefully. He couldn’t even imagine what actually reliving one of your memories felt like. His face was torn in anguish and confusion danced in his eyes. But mostly, it was the sadness that dominated, utter, crushing sadness that prevented Lothar from looking away even if he so desperately wanted to. His eyes tracked every movement that the three memories made. He seemed to drink in every micro-expression that flickered on Llane’s face.

Then-Medivh used a powerful spell to trap the last of the trolls in ice and the vision dissolved in wisps of smoke. The library slowly reappeared around them, tame and quiet.

Lothar wobbled on his feet and he grabbed the edge of the table, feeling suddenly faint. Khadgar quickly dragged a stool and gently pushed Lothar down to sit on it before he collapsed.

Khadgar leaned his hip against the table, facing Lothar, and rubbed his back soothingly. He was trembling.

“What was that?” he finally was able to ask.

“A vision,” Khadgar explained calmly. “A memory - Medivh’s, I’m guessing. It buffers in and out of this room. I still haven’t really figured out how it works.”

“A memory?” Lothar frowned. “You mean Medivh doesn’t remember this.”

Khadgar blinked. “I… hadn’t thought about that. I guess we’ll have to ask him.”

Lothar sighed. “If he ever gets here.”

“He will,” Khadgar said, tone sure and unequivocal, putting his hand on Lothar’s shoulder, staring him right in the eyes.

Lothar didn’t look convinced.

“That was… even before Llane became King. Weeks before Stormwind was attacked by the trolls and King Adamant was killed. We were just scouting at the border, we liked doing that, honing our skills, keeping alert. Trolls attacked us. Medivh felt something and he wanted to follow it to its source. We found our way to a temple in the middle of the jungle.”

While listening to Lothar, Khadgar settled on the table, arms crossed. Lothar stared at the grain of the wood, lost in the memory.

“We snuck in. It was easier than it should have been. Llane wanted to attack and Medivh agreed. The troll, their chief… I don’t know how he did it, but he used this power to use the lives of his own and grow bigger.”

Khadgar interrupted him, eyebrows scanting downwards. “Fel?”

“Maybe,” Lothar shrugged. “I wouldn’t know the difference between your magic and other kinds. But it did feel wrong. Medivh hadn’t yet had to try out the real extent of his power. He had woken up from his coma just a few months before and, if I’m honest, I think he was dying to see what he could really do. He obliterated the troll along with the entire temple around us. I have no idea how it did not kill us too but I guess Medivh really did have complete control over this power.”

Khadgar’s eyes widened as Lothar recounted these events. He had seen what Medivh had been able to do while he was controlled by Sargeras but according to Lothar, he had been himself at the time of the vision. And Khadgar had seen another vision, that of Aegwynn, Medivh’s mother and the former Guardian. He had seen the sheer power that she had been able to control against the shade of Sargeras. The power of the Guardian really was incredible.

“Retaliation came to us for the destruction”, Lothar kept on. “The trolls attacked only a few weeks later. Llane and Taria had only just gotten married. Callan…” Lothar sobbed. “Callan had just been born.”

He put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Khadgar knelt down beside him and rubbed his back, encouraging him to lay his head on his shoulder. He held him as he cried about the deaths of his son and his friend. It was a subject they mostly avoided - it wasn’t difficult, with all the things that had to be taken care of. Gul’dan may have disappeared but the Orcs were still trying to find their place in this world. The portal, without either Gul’dan or Medivh to power it, was out of service which meant the Orcs were stuck here. According to what Garona had told us of their world, they wouldn’t have wanted to go back anyway. Though the Orcs had been stopped in their march towards Stormwind, skirmishes were still frequent at the border. Organizing the defense of the kingdom as well as navigating diplomatic relations with the Northern states was plenty to keep Lothar occupied. He escaped to Karazhan once a week to spend a day without having to worry about where the Orcs would strike next or if the Gilneans would or would not agree to the alliance treaty - not to be reminded of his losses. 

It had only been a month since they had buried Llane, along with all the other soldiers who had found their deaths at the portal. A month since Lothar was officially titled King Regent. A month and Lothar had not cried since. He had broken down that very day, alone in his quarters, staring at the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from the kitchens, thinking that he would rather forget everything for one night. He hadn’t been able to start drinking, though. He felt too empty, too raw for the alcohol to bring anything but more pain. He hadn’t had a drop of wine since. 

His head cradled into Khadgar’s neck, the mage’s warm hands on his back, rubbing softly, Khadgar’s breath against his ear, it all helped ground him into the moment and overcome the sadness that threatened to choke him. Even when the tears let up and started to dry on his cheeks, Lothar didn’t pull away. He breathed in the scent, the crackling paper, the ink, yes, even the mould, that permeated the entire room and even Khadgar, he thought. It was a scent that calmed him, now. It reminded him that he was safe, far away from the council room, or his sister, or the widows’ gazes in the streets. He let out a shaky sigh and finally straightened up.

He hurriedly wiped his cheeks clean, looking away. Khadgar stood up but he kept his hands on Lothar’s shoulders until he looked up at him.

“Okay?” he made sure.

Lothar smiled and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“I bet you haven’t eaten,” he said. Khadgar thankfully didn’t call him out on the change of subject.

“I haven’t,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Come on, then.”

They made their way down to the kitchens and helped themselves in the enchanted cupboards. The sweetness of the brioche lifted their spirits and they even found some tea. After their meal, Khadgar indicated that he needed to go back to the library to research. On the possibility that Medivh did not in fact come to Karazhan, it was up to Khadgar to find a way to cure them of the curse. Lothar helped him up the stairs since his leg was still injured.

Once they arrived in the room, Lothar observed:

“I think we should splint that,” he gestured to Khadgar’s leg.

Khadgar pondered on that for a minute before saying: “I think you’re right.”

He went to sit, hopping towards a sofa tucked in between two bookshelves. Lothar went upstairs to the chambers to pick up some supply before coming back to the library. In the time he was gone, Khadgar had already picked up a book in which he was completely engrossed. Lothar did not try to talk to him as he uncovered his lower leg and started removing the bandage. He put a clean cloth on the wound, wincing a little at how raw it still looked. It must have hurt a lot though he couldn’t tell by watching Khadgar. Even as he handled his limb, he still didn’t look away from his book. Lothar had found a stick of wood which he used as a splint, carefully wrapping the leg again. He tucked the end of the bandage and hoped it would hold.

Khadgar gasped suddenly and Lothar started.

“Did I hurt you?” he worried.

But Khadgar did not hear him. He sat up on the couch, slamming the book on top his thighs. He started muttering under his breath, following the lines of text with his fingertip. Lothar sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with the mage until he had exhausted this particular train of thought. Leaving him to his musings, Lothar found himself a comfortable armchair and a book that looked interesting enough and settled for what he knew to be several hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vision is from The Last Guardian (book) but the rest of Lothar's story from Bonds of Brotherhood (movie canon comic)


	9. Overthinking

###### CHAPTER 9

At around midday, Lothar tired of the history book he had randomly picked off the shelves. He sent it flying across the table, hoping to get the rise out of the bookworm. He didn’t even flinch. He hadn’t moved from the sofa, not even to get more books to cross reference whatever he was working on. Instead, Lothar had had to keep ducking levitating books which flew at high speed towards Khadgar’s outstretched hand. 

Feeling hungry, Lothar came down to the kitchens and helped himself to the cellar. He was growing sick of bread, especially bland, but there was nothing else edible in the whole of the tower. Still, it helped him not to keel over, which was always good. He brought a loaf back with him and handed it to Khadgar. After ten seconds of Khadgar not grabbing it, Lothar wondered whether he should shake him to catch his attention.

He decided against it - whatever Khadgar was working on, it was very likely that it had to do with the curse and, hopefully, a way to break it that would mean both of their survival. He didn’t want to get in the way of this and the mage. Instead, he placed the loaf in the line of Khadgar’s sight and hoped that he would eat it. Lothar left the room, needing to stretch his legs. He went off to explore the tower, half hoping he would stumble into another one of those visions. He was still shaken by the one he had been witness to in the library but his curiosity had been piqued. What other memories of Medivh might inhabit these walls?

He reached the servants’ quarters, at the very bottom of the tower, without seeing another vision or even a single ghost. He tried to ignore the slight disappointment he felt. He noticed a training dummy lying on the floor in the stables. He put it upwards and dusted it. He distantly wondered what it was doing here but he had long ago decided not to question any of the things that happened here in Karazhan.

He had left his sword in the chambers - perhaps an idiotic decision, considering the kinds of creatures that inhabited the place. He didn’t feel like climbing the stairs though so he simply rolled up his sleeves and used the dummy as a punching bag. It was harder than one which meant he had to adjust the strength of his punches in order to avoid accidentally breaking his knuckles. He found a good rhythm quickly and proceeded to pummel the dummy. He channeled all of his grief, anger, sadness, frustration and worry that he had felt in only the past twenty-four hours.

He couldn’t help his thoughts from running even as he tried to silence them by hitting even faster. He thought back to the events of yesterday. He had picked up the book despite Khadgar’s warning - why? He knew how dangerous things could be in this Light forsaken tower. He had fought and almost lost his best friend to the kinds of evil that lived here. Why couldn’t he have just left the damned book alone?

He wasn’t an overly curious man. All of his life, he had more or less followed the path that others paved for him. His father had been a soldier, so he had become a soldier. His friend Llane was to become the King one day and he would need competent knights fighting for his kingdom. He had built himself a purpose in being a knight and taken great pride in his skills. When he was fifteen, he had met Cally and they had fallen in love. Turning eighteen and getting married was all that had mattered to them. Lothar had wanted children - he knew he would when he had been only ten years old, in spite of his friends’ teasing. He didn’t have siblings, Llane and Medivh had been that for him. Medivh had been older than the both of them, and he had been the older brother that they both didn’t have.

Lothar wondered when his life had started going awry. Was it during the troll siege of the city? When King Adamant died and Llane had to become a King, all too soon? When real life finally caught up to them and they had had to face the consequences of their brash actions? Things were never the same after that - Llane had had to take care of a kingdom at war, Lothar was made commander and had troops under him, people under his command, his responsibility. Medivh disappeared into his tower, intent on becoming even more powerful in order to prevent the whole of Azeroth to erupt in senseless war.

Or had it been when Cally died in childbirth and he was left with a baby that he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but resentment for? He had made efforts to love Callan until he thought maybe he had loved him too much. Unable to let him go and be his own person, he had ultimately been responsible for him dying. Had Callan ever really wanted to be a soldier or had he only joined the ranks to feel closer to his dad?

The dummy resisted the assault steadfastly, its weighted base preventing it from toppling over. Lothar swiveled and punched and kicked it. He was sweating profusely and his breathing came out harshly but he was only getting more worked up.

Maybe his life had already taken a turn for the worse before Cally. Maybe he should have known something was wrong when Medivh killed his father and fell into a coma. He had been twelve, and Lothar and Llane ten. At the time of these events, they hadn’t really understood what had happened. It was only later, as they grew up, that they understood the actual implications. It had been an accident, but the Lord Magus Aran was dead, depriving Stormwind of valuable magical aid. The fact he had been killed by another mage led King Adamant to heavily mistrust the mages and relations between Stormwind and Dalaran grew sour.

When Medivh woke up, he did not remember a thing. They had to tell him that he had killed his father because of his uncontrolled power. But he claimed that he now was in complete control of his abilities. He had been to Dalaran where the archmages had named him Guardian. He had then went to Karazhan, the tower his mother used to live in.

Llane and Lothar had grown without him. They were adults now and they all had responsibilities. But Medivh, even if he had changed during his coma, remembered clearly when they had been children and best friends. For that reason, Llane and Lothar agreed to reconnect with him. It had been so easy - and in Lothar’s mind, the last few happy years of his life. The trolls, Cally’s death, Adamant’s, the Orcs... 

As the world slowly fell into chaos, Medivh retreated into himself. He barely left Karazhan anymore. When the orcs appeared, he had failed to answer his King’s call for help. Until Khadgar showed up and his youth, his confidence forced Medivh to get involved. Little did they know that he was the one orchestrating everything. Him, or the demon inside, Lothar didn’t much care.

Why didn’t they notice? Why didn’t they worry? Ten years in a coma and he woke up more powerful, more skilled than he ever was. Fascinated with all kinds of magic and obsessed with mastering them all. Arcane, nature, Light, necromancy… And even fel. Lothar remembered, now, during the troll siege of Stormwind. It had been the same kind of magic that Medivh had used than that of the troll chief. It had felt the same, damp, heavy, wrong.

But how could they have known back then? All they cared about was that their Guardian would be there to protect them, against any enemy. And if he used incredible power, unimaginable power that came from Light only knew where, they were not about to complain. He was the only reason why Stormwind didn’t fall that day. It didn’t matter how he managed that feat.

Except it did matter. But they only realized that when it was already too late. If it hadn’t been for Khadgar, then Stormwind would have fallen, overrun by hordes of orcs, twisted by Gul’dan’s preaching, led by Medivh from the shadows. But Khadgar figured everything out - the portal, the sorcerer, the fel. He mastered the teleportation spell after only having witnessed it once and brought them to Karazhan. He, somehow, defeated the demon inside Medivh, unleashing a wave of pure power which, simultaneously, gave Lothar enough strength to jump atop his gryphon and rejoin the battlefield.

He had been too late. He would forever remember the weight of Llane’s body in his arms, the warmth of the blood which kept pouring from his neck. He would remember the heat of the grass underneath his naked feet, the feel of his sword going through the flesh of the Orc which had challenged him. The sound of his dead body hitting the ground behind him and the absolute silence which had followed as the Orcs realized he had won. They let him go. Garona made sure of that.

He had arrived in Stormwind, exhausted, and dreading the moment he would have to face Taria. She was anxiously waiting in the throne room for his return. Khadgar had teleported from Karazhan directly to the Keep with Medivh, who was ushered to Northshire for medical attention. They had no idea whether he would survive. Khadgar was waiting with Taria for Lothar's return. hadn’t had to say anything: the very fact that he was alone had been enough to tell them of what had happened. 

Taria ran out of the room, stifling her sobs. Unable to follow her, Lothar collapsed on the steps that led to the throne. Khadgar only hesitated for a couple of seconds before sitting next to him and gathering him in his arms.

The last they had seen of each other, Lothar had lifted Khadgar’s head to check his eyes. When he had seen they were brown, he had felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. He wouldn’t have known what to do if the young mage had been infected with the fel. He had left him at Karazhan, promising to come back to get him. Promising he would come back, that he would survive. Khadgar had seemed to get what he meant either way. They had thought Medivh dead, crushed under the boulder in the middle of the font. And they had still thought Llane alive.

Lothar couldn’t tell in words how much he appreciated Khadgar’s presence in that moment. 

When Khadgar decided to go to Karazhan afterwards, Lothar worried. He would much rather have him stay in Stormwind. He couldn’t stop him though and so did the next best thing, visiting him whenever he could. He enjoyed his days at Karazhan more than he would like to admit. Khadgar didn’t ask him how he was feeling, he didn’t try and talk to him about the latest meeting or what his strategy was, and - no offense to Taria who did her best at being a mother and a queen as well a sister - he didn’t look at him as if he expected him to die the next day.

Sometimes, it was even as if Khadgar didn’t even question his presence anymore. He had become as much of a fixed feature in the mage’s life as Khadgar now was in his. The first few times, Khadgar had been so surprised that he hadn’t known what to do with himself. He hadn’t known whether to accommodate for Lothar’s presence or to continue with his day as usual. Now, he was able to get so focused on a task that Lothar could jump and scream next to him that he wouldn’t even flinch. Lothar thought that this would annoy him but in truth it endeared him to the mage as well as prove to him that he wasn’t a nuisance, as he had feared he would be at first. And Lothar needed Khadgar in his life more than he had ever been comfortable enough to question. But now....

Now, Khadgar was injured and he was sick and it was all Lothar’s fault. He had been very clear that if Medivh didn’t come tomorrow or himself didn’t find a solution by the next day, then they would most probably die before the next day’s dusk.

Lothar didn’t care about dying. He was prepared for it, had been since the day that he had joined the ranks and he had been constantly reminded of his mortality since. But he couldn’t bear for another one of his friends to die because of him. Khadgar was about to die and he was directly responsible for it.

Welling up, he punched the dummy as hard as he could. He felt a great wave of energy swell up inside of him and accompany his fist. He hit the dummy so hard that it lost its footing. Shocked, Lothar fell still, breathing heavily. The dummy wobbled dangerously but remained standing. Lothar took a step back, feeling the soreness start to settle into his muscles after his wild punching. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized he had reached his body’s limits. Distracted, he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

“Lothar? Are you alright?”


	10. The ghoul

###### CHAPTER 10

Khadgar did not snap out of his daze until almost nighttime. The sun grazed the top of the surrounding mountains, casting red shadows high up the ceiling of the library. The rays of sun rarely managed to reach inside the room. Too high and the thick walls prevented them from entering through the small windows. Too low and the jealous mountains stopped them from going any farther than their grassy hills. Early morning and late afternoons were really the only time any light graced the walls and bookshelves and one of the only way Khadgar had of keeping track of the time.

He put down his notebook with a contented sigh. The book he had been studying had truly helped him understand the nature of the curse that they were facing. With a little more time and checking a couple more things, he was confident he would be able to develop a counter-spell. With Medivh’s help, he knew he would have it ready in a matter of hours.

He stood up and stretched. Only now did he notice the loaf of bread strategically placed on the bench next to him. He smiled as he picked it up. He tore off a piece and put it in his mouth. At the first hint of taste, his mouth watered and his stomach protested loudly. Sighing, Khadgar knew he wouldn’t be satiated by the bread and he painstakingly made his way to the kitchens, trying to ignore the acute pain in his leg. He was dying for a real meal, something that he could rarely get while at Karazhan. Thankfully, it was only something he wanted and not a necessity.

Whenever Lothar visited he would bring meat and cheese along with him that they shared at noon. Lothar interrupted whatever Khadgar was doing and forced him to join him for a meal. Khadgar usually started by protesting - he was busy, couldn’t he see that - but soon relented and instead enjoyed the food. It was frugal but it was better than the bread that was the only thing that Khadgar ate these days. It would end up causing him problems, he thought idly as he walked down the stairs.

This time had not been any different - Lothar had arrived a little after dawn the day before along with a heavy bag full of food. They had eaten it all on the terrace, enjoying the midday sun. Khadgar now wished they hadn’t finished it all so quickly but they had no way of knowing that they would both be stuck in the tower with no way of getting any more food. He was used to it, at least, but could only imagine how Lothar must feel about bread.

He half expected to find the warrior in the kitchens. It was, after all, time for a meal and it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. But the rooms were empty. Though he wondered where Lothar was, Khadgar opened the cupboard and ate some cinnamon buns before looking for him. The sugar did him a lot of good chasing the weariness of the day away.

He wondered where Lothar might be. He was about to start back up the stairs when he heard a noise beyond the scullery. He followed it until he reached the old stables. Hay still littered the cobbled floor and the distinctive odor of horses permeated the air. Khadgar pinched his nose and soldiered on.

He arrived just in time to see Lothar almost knock the training dummy to the ground.

"Lothar?" He called after he had fallen still. "Are you alright?"

He stepped closer to him, careful not to jostle him. He had seen how he had startled at the sound of his voice. Staying alert, Khadgar lay a tentative hand on Lothar's arm and leaned in close to cross his gaze. Lothar didn’t react in the slightest. His eyes were wide opened, staring at nothing, and his breathing was loud and rapid.

“Hey,” Khadgar murmured. “What’s up with you?”

He tugged on his arm, hoping he would follow him back into the kitchens where they might sit. But Lothar didn’t budge. Khadgar held back a sigh, doubtful it would help the situation. He stepped closer to Lothar, putting his hand on his back and rubbing it. He wondered what he might say to get his attention but came up short. So he stayed silent, eventually leaning his cheek against Lothar’s shoulder. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deliberately and he hoped that it could help Lothar refocus. After what seemed like hours, he could feel the warrior relax slowly, muscles going lax and his breathing calming down. Eventually, he stirred and Khadgar took a step back, but leaving his hands on Lothar’s back and arm.

“Hi,” he greeted him.

Lothar flushed crimson and avoided his gaze. He cleared his throat before answering:

“Hey. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Khadgar smiled. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Lothar closed his eyes and stepped away from him. He still looked haunted by whatever thoughts were currently running through his mind and Khadgar frowned.

“Not really.”

Khadgar nodded. “Okay, well. I’m here if you need.”

Those were apparently the wrong words: Lothar raised his head suddenly, eyebrows furrowed furiously, and glared at him.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said curtly. He then pushed past him and headed down the stairs.

Khadgar sighed but, even though he was hurt, decided to let it slide. He understood how stressful the situation was and that Lothar wasn’t in the best of moods. Still, he had only been trying to help…

A sudden scream chased all thoughts from his mind. Focused, Khadgar rushed after Lothar, wincing as he limped.

“Khadgar!” he heard him yell from the cellars.

He ran as fast as he could, looking everywhere until he finally spotted Lothar. He wasn’t alone. In front of him towered an atrocity made up of bones and dripping flesh. It looked poorly held together, its long limbs swinging wildly about. Khadgar skid to a stop and gasped loudly.

Lothar ran to his side and hid behind his back.

“What the fuck is that!”

Khadgar shook his head slowly. He watched as the creature swayed from left to right and tried screeching though the sound dissolved into disgusting gurgles in its half formed throat. It was apparently blind which was only slightly reassuring.

“Do something!” Lothar urged him.

Khadgar turned to look at him and threw his hands in the air. “You do something!”

“I have no weapon,” Lothar seethed.

Khadgar rolled his eyes. He turned his attention back to the creature. He stared at him, looking for its weakness, and it seemed to have many. Now that Khadgar had the time to get past his initial shock, he realized the creature didn’t seem that dangerous but he had no idea what it could be capable of doing if it felt threatened. He had to incapacitate it with one blow. He muttered a few words and gathered the mana in his arms. He stretched his arms straight to the side and clapped his hands. The arcane flew from his shoulders to his fingertips and out of him, one great concentrated blast which hit the monster right in the chest. It exploded upon impact, flesh and sharp bones flying everywhere. Khadgar felt himself be pulled to the ground and only instinct made him shield his head with his arms.

When he raised his head, he saw the bottom half of the creature still standing up but immobile. After a dreadful couple of seconds it wobbled and fell to the floor heavily.

The silence that followed was spine-chilling. Very carefully, Khadgar and Lothar stood up, looking around at the damage. Bloodied pieces of raw flesh stained the walls and their clothes. They gagged and shared a common horrified glance.

They ran out of the cellars, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. In the small courtyard they stopped, breath coming out in quick shallow puffs. Khadgar leaned heavily against the wall. Pain came in sharp waves up his leg and he couldn’t hide his wince.

“Fuck, Khadgar,” Lothar said, “you shouldn’t even be standing.”

Khadgar huffed and Lothar winced in sympathy. He grabbed his arm and let him rest on him. Carefully, they made their way through the stables and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that thing,” Lothar asked again.

Khadgar shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think a… ghoul of some sort.”

“A ghoul?” Lothar repeated, confused. “Where did it come from?”

“No idea,” Khadgar breathed out.

“What if there are more of it?” Lothar asked as they made their way up the stairs back to the chambers.

“Then we have a problem,” Khadgar stated wryly.

Lothar’s panic wasn’t helping him think. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Khadgar pushed off Lothar and stalked into the chambers, distractedly removing his shirt. He could hear Lothar do the same. Khadgar sat down on the bed, crying out as the pain in his leg shot up unexpectedly.

Lothar was by his side in an instant, kneeling down. He cursed as he took gentle hold of his leg and his hands came up bloodied.

“This is a mess,” he said, shaking his head. “You need a healer. I don’t know what to do.”

He stared at Khadgar, anguish twisting his features and darkening his eyes.

“No choice,” Khadgar said in between locked teeth. He breathed slowly through his nose trying to control the pain.

Lothar left him to go fetch the alcohol and a clean cloth. Thankfully Medivh had a lot of towels because they hadn’t had the time to clean anything and clothes kept piling up in the tub. Their shirts rejoined the other garments. Lothar seriously wondered whether they wouldn’t just be better off burning it all. Medivh also had enough clothes to dress them both for years. Not that they would be stuck in here for years and if they were, clothes wouldn’t be the first thing he would worry about. Shaking his head, Lothar practically ran back to Khadgar. He quickly undressed the wound, cleaned it and bandaged it again. Khadgar tried not to hiss too much at the pain but Lothar couldn’t blame him. The wound looked worse with every hour that passed and Lothar felt despair fill him.

“We need to do something,” he told Khadgar.

The mage raised a critical eyebrow. “You have any sensibility to the Light?” he asked.

Lothar sighed. “No. You?” he asked for good measure.

“I’m a mage,” Khadgar answered laconically.

He slumped backwards on the bed letting out a long groan. Lothar straightened up and went to the closet search for new shirts. Pulling out a plain brown one and a truly horrid purple one, he turned around and called to Khadgar:

“Which one do you think?”

Khadgar raised only his head in order to see and the ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

“For you?”

“Yeah,” Lothar said in a faux-whimsical tone, draping the purple shirt over his chest to showcase it in all its glory.

“That one is pretty good, I have to admit.”

Lothar grinned and Khadgar chuckled, letting his head fall back on the bed. Lothar put the shirt back in the closet before putting on the brown one. He then found a deep blue one that he brought to Khadgar. He sat on the bed next to him and, after a couple minutes during which Khadgar didn’t stir, lied down beside him. He felt Khadgar turn his head towards him before he whispered:

“What are we going to do?”

Lothar turned his own head to face Khadgar.

“About what?” he whispered in turn.

His eyes were drawn to Khadgar’s mouth as he bit his lower lip.

“Everything,” came the answer. “The ghoul, the curse. The orcs.”

Lothar forcefully dragged his gaze back up to Khadgar’s eyes. He huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Our best?”

Khadgar snickered. “That’s all you could come up with? I’m in dire need of reassurance here.”

Lothar slapped his arm and chuckled.

“Whatever, nerd. Look, there’s no need worrying. We’re doing everything that we can. Medivh will be here tomorrow.” Khadgar was about to intervene but Lothar beat him to it. “He will, okay? As for the ghoul, well, I think we should investigate,” he said, looking at the ceiling.

After a beat, Khadgar rose on his elbow to look down at him.

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” Lothar said poisedly. “We need to find out where this one came from so that we can figure out if others might appear or are already here. We can’t have this tower be overrun by these ghouls creatures. It’s already enough of a death trap as it is, what with the ghosts and the giant spiders. We don’t need to add the living dead to the mix.”

Khadgar frowned.

“Okay, sure, but what exactly do you suggest we do about them?”

Lothar grinned. “Research,” he said gleefully. Khadgar glared at him. “They’re obviously not naturally occurring wildlife. If there’s magic somewhere helping them form, then isn’t that something you could stop?”

He sounded hopeful but really, he had no idea whether what he was asking was possible. He didn’t know anything about ghouls but neither did Khadgar, so research was truly their best option for now. If they found out that there was nothing to do to get rid of them, then he figured the next best thing would be to leave Karazhan to its rotted fate and just set fire to the whole damned tower for good measure.

Khadgar looked like he was seriously considering what he had just said, so he thought maybe it wasn’t too absurd.

“Sounds stupid,” was Khadgar’s final assessment and Lothar was already groaning when he added: “I’m in.”


	11. Ghosts

###### CHAPTER 11

The library was surprisingly well equipped on the subject of ghouls, zombies and various other undeads. Some of the books even looked relatively recent and Lothar and Khadgar exchanged a gaze full of meaning.

“We’re going to have a lot to discuss when Medivh gets here, hu,” Lothar remarked and Khadgar laughed.

When Medivh gets here, he said, and never if. Without needing to talk about it, they had banned the word if from their vocabulary. Focusing on the ghoul issue helped them both take their minds off the fear and worry. Khadgar had done all that he could possibly do alone but he simply did not have enough knowledge, despite the myriad of books he had read in order to find out more about the curse. Some things simply weren’t learnt in books.

Working together, they managed to compile enough information about ghouls to begin their search of the source. Lothar had tried telling Khadgar that he should maybe stay in the library instead of going anywhere but a single glare had made him relent. He helped Khadgar by going first down the stairs and moving slowly. The injured man leaned on his crutch and hopped from step to step.

They started by looking through the cellars where they had encountered the ghoul. Apart from about a million of normal sized spiders, it was empty. They also found several bottles of Kul Tiran wine which Lothar eyed curiously until Khadgar dragged him away. Khadgar cast a quick purifying spell in the room where they had fought the ghoul but it didn’t clean it so they made a mental note to get to that, as soon as all the rest was taken care of. They went from the cellars up to the guests’ chambers. The halls were uncharacteristically empty and Lothar had to suppress a shiver. He remembered this place buzzing with life, patrons, performers and hostesses all laughing and conversing. To see it so utterly empty was disorienting.

Well - almost utterly empty. At the corner of his eyes, he could see shadows moving. They weren’t quite fully there, yet, so every time he tried focusing on one it disappeared. Lothar blinked a few times thinking it was just a trick of the light. Khadgar suddenly grabbed his arm pulling them to a stop.

“Lothar, look.”

Straight in front of them in the corridor, a figure flickered in and out of sight. It was a tall, hooded person and even at its clearest, they could still see straight through it.

“A ghost,” Khadgar breathed out.

Keeping his voice low, Lothar asked: “Why doesn’t it look like the ones outside?”

“The spirits outside aren’t exactly ghosts,” Khadgar explained as they started walking again. “They’re more like spectres, or lost parts of someone’s soul. These here are closer to a memory. A fragment of the past that still lingers in the present.”

He sounded absolutely fascinated and Lothar nodded slowly, not quite getting it. When they were only a few steps away from the ghost, it turned and walked away from them at a brisk pace. They both startled at the sudden movement.

“Should we follow?” Lothar wondered.

Khadgar slapped his arm. “They’re not conscious,” he admonished him. Lothar shrugged. He didn’t know anything about ghosts but clearly Khadgar had done his research on the subject.

They cautiously made their way through the halls, checking each chamber for anything out of the ordinary. They didn’t find anything except moths that had thoroughly attacked all of the cushions, clothes, curtains and even mattresses. They regrouped in the hall.

“Anything?” Khadgar asked him.

Lothar shook his head.

Then, they headed to the balcony. It was as empty as the rest of the tower although neither could quite get rid of the feeling that something was watching them. Almost at the same time, they rubbed the back of their necks, feeling ill at ease.

“Do you really think it would have come from any of the upper stories?” Lothar asked skeptically. 

Khadgar sighed loudly, frustration building up to uncomfortable levels. “I don’t know.”

“Right,” Lothar said.

They walked across the balcony and peered down to the ballroom. They made their way down the stairs and walked across the room, head turning left and right, alert.

“So,” Lothar eventually broke the silence, “what’s a ghost’s reason for being here, then? If they’re fragments of the past, what’s keeping them here?”

He squatted so he could check underneath a bench and Khadgar looked at him in quiet confusion. He peered behind heavy decorative curtains, only to be met by a wall and he sighed again.

“Hard to say,” he answered Lothar’s question. “There are theories, though. Some think that’s really all they are, a fragment. They’re not real and they just go about the same movements over and over until their energy gets so old that they just naturally disappear. It’s been known to happen, sure. Others, though, they theorized that ghosts are actually part of someone soul’s that been left behind when they died, most probably because of a great and sudden shock. They’re… unable to go through the veil, in a way,” he explained, reciting that last part as if he didn’t believe a word of it.

Lothar glanced at him from across the room before he strode decidedly towards a stand armor in an alcove.

“And what do you think?”

He stared at the armor, imagining eyes that would peer down at him from behind the shining helmet. When he actually saw a glint in the darkness, he quickly walked away, a shiver traveling down his spine. This place was going to drive him crazy, he thought. He rejoined Khadgar right as he stepped from the ballroom into the dining hall. It was disappointingly void of any life - or ghosts, for that matter.

“I think that both are good theories and not necessarily incompatible. Maybe there are more than one type of ghosts, you know.”

Lothar hummed in agreement. He picked up a candelabra that was lying on one of the tables, examining it. Its golden hue picked up the light and it glinted.

“Have you seen Medivh?”

Startled, Lothar jumped backwards and dropped the candelabra. It clattered to the ground. Alerted by the noise, Khadgar limped his way over to him.

“What’s going on?”

Across the table from Lothar, a shadow flickered to life, staying just enough for him to see it was a young woman with shiny red hair. She was wearing a beaded dress with a very low neckline and she held a glass of champagne in her hand.

“Have you seen Medivh?” she repeated.

Lothar scrambled backwards, knocking over a bench. Khadgar shouted and grabbed him by the arm.

“It’s alright! It’s just another ghost!”

The woman disappeared and reappeared in a wink, uttering the same phrase again. Lothar huffed and brought a hand to his chest. His heart beat fast and loud.

“Are you okay?” Khadgar worried.

“Yeah,” Lothar said, suddenly annoyed. “Come on.”

He stalked to the service door in the corner of the room without checking if Khadgar followed. He stepped into the kitchens and sat down on a stool. He put his head in his arms on the table and groaned. Khadgar came up from behind him, very carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I hate this fucking place,” Lothar mumbled.

Khadgar patted his shoulder. “Yeah…”

He went and grabbed a couple of loaves in the cupboard, placing one down for Lothar. He started munching on his own, pensive.

“I wonder if the location of Karazhan might encourage ghostly activity,” he said wistfully.

Lothar raised his head tiredly and stared at him. “Another theory?” he asked wryly.

The mage shot him a sarcastic smile and squinted meanly at him. Lothar smirked.

“No ghoul,” he remarked.

“No ghoul,” Khadgar agreed. He frowned. “Could come from outside,” he mused as he chewed his bread. Lothar picked up his own and started eating. “There’s quite a wide hole in the wall in the armory.”

Once their meal finished, they cautiously ventured into the guardhouse. It was thankfully empty but indeed, the back wall had a gaping hole in it, letting in the chill night air. Exchanging a glance, Lothar and Khadgar stepped out, climbing the stones. As a rule, they wouldn’t recommend wandering about at night outside Karazhan. The place was inhospitable even when the tower had been taken care of by a full staff and regularly visited. But since Medivh had retreated into solitude, the fields around the tower had withered. Restless spirits and giant spiders roamed freely.

It was a clear night and the half full moon gave a welcome glare. Stepping lightly so as not to make too much noise, Lothar mentioned for Khadgar to stay near the tower as he surveyed the surroundings. The sound of a three-legged walk behind him immediately told him that Khadgar did not obey his order. He closed his eyes and sighed. The mage went past him and into open field, looking around.

“Lothar, there’s nothing here,” he remarked.

The warrior caught up to him and had to come to the same conclusion. “That’s weird.”

“Didn’t you say that the place was full of spiders and whatnot?”

Instead of reassuring them, this only worried them more. The spiders wouldn’t have just left on their own. Something must have convinced them - or scared them off.

“What’s that?” Khadgar asked, pointing off to the distance.

Lothar squinted to make out shapes in the darkness.

“That’s the old crypt,” he said.

He saw the slight jump that Khadgar did and he glanced at him. Khadgar raised his hands in askance.

“A crypt?” he repeated. “There was a crypt here all along and you made us scour the upper stories before you mentioned it?”

Taken aback, Lothar asked: “You didn’t know? How long have you been here, a month?”

Khadgar at least looked a bit embarrassed and he mumbled: “I don’t go outside a whole lot.”

Sniggering, Lothar continued: “And yeah, I knew about the crypt. I’m sorry it just didn’t cross my mind that the ghoul could come from there. It was sealed off ages ago.”

“Why?” Khadgar asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

“You’d have to ask Medivh,” Lothar shrugged.

But Khadgar was already making his way steadily towards the building. Lothar watched him go, reeling, before he jogged to catch up to him. They stopped in front of the descending steps. The gate that sealed off the crypt hung broken from its hinges, wide open. Khadgar shot Lothar a judging look before hopping down the stairs and entering the cave.

Before following, Lothar let out a loud sigh. 

“Or we could just go in.”

As he entered the crypt, the wind howled.


	12. The crypt

###### CHAPTER 12

Khadgar skidded to a stop, breath catching in his throat. He took in the large pool, the oozing walls, and, at the far end of the room, a giant pile of bones. He felt Lothar come up behind him, walking slowly.

“What the fuck?” Khadgar exclaimed, gesturing towards the bones.

Lothar looked down, features twisted.

“Did you know about this?” Khadgar asked him.

He sighed and met his gaze. “Yes. And before you ask, yes, so did Medivh. He didn’t know what it was or who was responsible for it, though. And…” he faltered but he could see the questions swimming in Khadgar’s eyes and decided to spare him having to ask: “Yes, these are human bones.”

The mage’s eyes widened and he scoffed in disbelief.

“What else is in here?” he asked.

Lothar winced and Khadgar glared at him, daring him to even try and hide something from him.

“There’s this pool with corpses chained to the ceiling.”

Khadgar’s features twisted in disgust.

“How sure are you that Medivh isn’t responsible for this?”

Lothar was shaking his head before Khadgar had even finished wording his question. “Absolutely sure, no doubt on that. He brought me here when he was only moving in. After his coma, he went to Dalaran for a few years and after that came here to Karazhan, claiming it was where the Guardian belonged. He checked every single inch of the place. He was so disturbed by this place that he had to share it with someone.”

“And that someone was you?”

Lothar shrugged. “Llane was busy.”

Khadgar pinched his nose. “Well, this here is a nice little recipe for ghouls and other nasty creatures, for sure.”

Looking around, Lothar had to observe: “Yet there are none.”

Feeling suddenly uneasy, he stepped closer to Khadgar who looked deep in thought.

“What are you thinking?” he asked him.

“I’m thinking about how much of an idiot you are,” Khadgar snapped.

Lothar blinked. “Well, okay.”

“I have been here a month,” Khadgar continued. “A month, Lothar. And not once did it ever occur to you to mention the fact that there are, what, about a hundred skeletons right underneath my feet?”

His voice clattered across the large chamber. The echo was weirdly muted by the water.

“This is the kind of things I need to know, for Light’s sake!”

Lothar crossed his arms. “If you weren’t constantly lost in a book, you’d have looked for yourself and found this place. I was never tasked with giving you the grand tour.”

“How could you just forget about the actual human mass grave?”

“This is a thousand year old tower, Khadgar, people died. You want me to show you the cemetery near the chapel too? Did that somehow escape your notice?”

Khadgar threw his hands in the air.

“There is a difference. These people were most likely massacred. And I’m surprised when ghouls show up!” he scoffed. “But that’s just the kinds of things that happen in this hell of a place.”

“Just like curses “just” happen here, is that right?” Lothar sniped.

“They don’t when you don’t touch anything.”

“Oh so it’s my fault now that we’re stuck here?”

“Of course,” Khadgar yelled, “it’s your fault!”

Lothar’s jaw snapped shut. His eyes widened impossibly and Khadgar frowned.

“Sorry, I-”

“Shhh!” Lothar interrupted him. He raised a shaky arm and pointed behind him. Khadgar turned around slowly, holding his breath.In the arched entrance stood a ghoul. Different from the one in the cellars, almost fully-formed, flesh covering its skull. Behind it loomed the shadows of a dozen more.

“Fuck,” Khadgar muttered.

Lothar unsheathed his sword and assumed a defensive pose. But the ghoul didn’t attack: it simply stood there, unmoving.

“Is it waiting for something?” Lothar whispered.

The ghoul let out a low grumble, the sound reverberating and gaining in strength as it echoed around the room. Both Lothar and Khadgar took an instinctive step back, accidentally stepping into the shallow pool. Their boots splashed in the water and the ghoul turned its blind face towards the sound. The two men stilled and held their breath.

The first step the ghoul took was slow and hesitating. They watched as it dragged its bloody feet across the stone. For a second, it looked as if it would simply lose its balance and topple forward. But it managed to stay upright and the second step was already firmer. All of a sudden, it surged in their direction. With a shout, Lothar pushed Khadgar to one side and launched himself in the other. The ghoul charged straight into the water, howling when it realized its prey had escaped him.

Khadgar fell face down into the water. He struggled to stand back up, spluttering. Lothar rushed to help him to his feet. They both turned towards the exit but it was packed with ghouls.

The mage murmured a few words and gestured intently. He released a salve of powerful arcane blasts which made the first row of ghouls explode. But there were more behind.

“That’s good,” Lothar said. “Keep doing that. I’m going to distract them.”

“What?” Khadgar exclaimed. “Lothar, wait-”

But the warrior was already running to the other side of the room, yelling as he did so. All the ghouls seemed to wake up at once, alerted by the sudden loud noise. They all set off after Lothar at a speed which should have impossible. Khadgar watched in horror as they chased him. Immediately, he targeted them with arcane blasts, feeling his energy depleting with each spell cast.

The ghouls had caught up to Lothar. He swiveled around and rose his sword in order to protect himself from the first blow. He immediately retaliated and dealt the ghoul a hard blow straight in the face. Animated with unadulterated fury, Lothar started swinging his sword expertly around, preventing himself from being touched and eventually wounding the surrounding creatures.

Since the ghouls did not pay him any mind, Khadgar forced himself to quell his anxiety. He focused on his breathing and searched the ground around him for a source from which he could pump more energy. The crater in which Karazhan was built was a place of convergence for the natural lines of raw energy which traveled the planet and a skilled mage could directly tap into them. Concentrating on the arcane vibrations, Khadgar found a vein not far. The power rushed through him and he could barely control it. He condensed it into one powerful sweeping spell and unleashed it.

“Lothar, duck!” he yelled.

The warrior was only saved by his lightning reflexes. He threw himself to the ground and flattened himself. The wave of arcane washed above him, hitting every single ghoul that had entered the room. They fell in heaps around him, struck dead. He didn’t lose any time before jumping to his feet. Khadgar was panting heavily but he looked steady on his feet. Lothar grabbed his crutch which lied in the water a few feet away and handed it to the mage. They quickly headed towards through the entrance only to stop in the corridor.

A half dozen ghouls met them.

“I’m all out of mana,” Khadgar announced.

Lothar cursed and gripped his sword tighter. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”

Swift on his feet, Lothar rushed towards the first ghoul which didn’t even have time to react before falling to the floor, limbs broken. He slashed its chest before moving to the next one. They made their way through the halls of the crypt, Lothar taking care of every single ghoul they met. He didn’t seem to tire. Every fight only seemed to intensify his strength.

They finally made it out, rushing out of the gate. Lothar climbed the stairs two steps at a time. But Khadgar turned around and pushed the iron gate closed with a spell. Then, he sealed it.

“It’s a simple spell and won’t hold long. I’ll need to come back,” he told Lothar.

A sudden fit of coughing made him swivel around. Lothar stood at the top of the stairs, hunched, his hands on his knees. His body was wrecked with awful coughs. Spit dribbled down his chin. Khadgar approached him slowly, worry etched into his features.

“Lothar…”

The man prevented him getting any closer by raising a hand. He coughed one last time and spat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and it was stained with blood. He looked up at Khadgar with wide eyes full of fear.

Both of them struggling, they limped their way back to the tower. It was a miracle that they reached the master’s chambers without either of them passing out from exhaustion or pain. Lothar let himself fall on the bed and curled in on himself. The fever had broken out and he was having difficulty breathing. Khadgar sat next to him, damning his inability to help.

He kept vigil over Lothar all night. He did try to sleep himself at some point but couldn’t drift to sleep. Lothar coughed intermittently and he started shivering not long before dawn. Khadgar had no idea what to do: he had known his spell was barely a weak lock on the flow of the curse. The exertion of the fight had been the opening the sickness was waiting for to strengthen his hold on Lothar’s body.

As the sky lightened slowly, Khadgar struggled to keep in the tears that he could feel rising to his eyes. He will come, he repeated over and over to himself. But he couldn’t stop the thoughts of Medivh not coming from interrupting his litany.

Lothar woke with a great gasp and Khadgar rushed to his side. Just as Lothar’s whole body shook with terrible coughs, Khadgar felt a wave in the surrounding energy, like a drop of water falling into a pond. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, even as Lothar glared at him through his tears. Without a word, he left the room, running as fast as he could down the stairs and onto the terrace.

“Don’t move!” he yelled before casting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this story so far! Leave a comment to let me know :)


	13. The cleansing

###### CHAPTER 13

Medivh stared at the blue shield surrounding him, eyebrows rising to his hairline. Khadgar rushed to him, breathless, hair mussed, eyes wide. He was leaning on a makeshift crutch and a large grin on his face.

“Oh thank the Light, Medivh!” he exclaimed. “I’m so happy to see you, I could hug you right now. Except I won’t because, well…”

He gasped, running out of breath.

“Young Trust,” Medivh greeted him, a confused smile dancing on his lips. “Care to explain?”

All of Khadgar’s joy seemed to wash out of him then and he slumped. Medivh frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

Khadgar managed to explain in a few words the situation. After he was done, Medivh hummed.

“What book?” he then asked.

Hearing the title of the cursed book, Medivh whistled and nodded. “Yes, that would explain it.”

Khadgar looked at him with begging eyes.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.”

“I do.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Khadgar let go. He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth but Medivh waved it off.

“Smart move with the blocking spell,” he congratulated the young mage. “With Lothar in the state you’ve described, we have no time to lose. It is indeed better that I stay in this bubble. I have to do in Stormwind and cannot afford to stay stuck for weeks.”

“That’s what I was thinking when you arrived,” Khadgar accepted the thanks. “Wait, what? Weeks?”

With a simple wave of his hand, Medivh took control of the arcane surrounding him from Khadgar. When he started walking, the shield followed him. Khadgar eyed him jealously and quickly followed him. Medivh walked around the library, muttering under his breath. Khadgar felt awkward interrupting him but he had to.

“Weeks?” he repeated.

“Get that book, will you?” Medivh asked, pointing towards a bookshelf in which a book began glowing ostentatiously.

He ignored all of Khadgar’s other attempts to make him explain himself. Sighing, and knowing that time was of the essence, the young mage decided to let it slide for now. He listened intently as Medivh explained the basis of the spell that they would need to perform together. It was a collaborative spell and Khadgar wasn’t looking forward to it. He hadn’t ever been the best at working in pairs.

“And how are you feeling?” Medivh asked.

Distracted, Khadgar made a small inquiring noise.

“Blocking spell holding up?” Medivh clarified.

“Oh,” Khadgar said. He checked himself and found that he felt perfectly healthy. It disheartened him even further, thinking about Lothar currently fighting a fever upstairs. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Medivh remarked lightly. “Then we can start.”

They stood in the middle of the room, facing each other. Khadgar’s mana had had plenty of time to replenish during the night. He felt it thrumming underneath his skin and could also feel it all around him, seeping from the walls. He took a deep breath in before nodding to Medivh.

The Magus immediately started chanting the first part of the spell. The energies gathered around them, expectant. Because of the shield surrounding him, Medivh wasn’t able to cast the actual cleansing spell. When he felt it was time, Khadgar intoned the spell. The magic resisted and bucked under his control but he held tight. Eyes closed, he couldn’t see the green particles starting to levitate around him. They hung in the air which seemed to hum with the energy that was suddenly being channeled.

In the master’s chambers, two stories up, Lothar watched in mixed awe and horror as the green dust lifted. In his feverish haze, he had still recognized the echo of Medivh’s voice and it had filled him with hope. But the fever and cough only seemed to get worse and threatened to pull him under. He fought against the nausea and lightheadedness, knowing that he might never wake up if he let himself slip under.

Medivh picked up the spell seamlessly from Khadgar, weaving the mana expertly. A wind rose sweeping the entire tower and setting the dust into a circular motion. It gained speed with every word that Medivh spoke. Khadgar stayed alert, attuned to the barest shift in the arcane energies around them. The curse had been inspired by a more Nature-centred type of magic but adapted to the special circumstances of the tower of Karazhan. The particles seemed to come alive and a low murmur resounded through the arcane plane, heard only by the two mages. In his room, Lothar cried out as a sharp pain tore his insides.

Khadgar reacted immediately and descended upon the recalcitrant elements of the curse, forcing them into line. They screeched and thrashed against his will but Khadgar manipulated the arcane around them as airtight as he possibly could. Medivh’s voice cut through the rush of the wind, growing stronger and stronger until he was yelling the final words of the cleansing spell.

A wave like a tsunami traveled the length of the column of green dust, held together by invisible arcane ropes. It rippled outward, and at its contact the green dust particles turned to nothingness, and then it came back towards its source at lightning speed. Medivh absorbed the shock as if it had been nothing.

There were no explosions, no loud noise, no great blast shaking the tower to its core. The wind died down and calm fell upon Karazhan. All that remained was the loud breathing and slightly disbelieving laughter of two mages in the library.

“Is that it?” Khadgar asked, winded.

Behind his protective bubble, Medivh laughed good-naturedly. The sound almost seemed unnatural in the quiet library except for how right it was.

“Yes, Young Trust.”

He looked unfazed behind his blue screen whereas Khadgar knew that he must look frazzled. Elation ran under his skin, making him want to run and jump in joy. Instead, he felt suddenly faint and he staggered and fell down on his butt. Even as pain blossomed in his legs, he was laughing.

Medivh took an instinctive step towards him but stopped when he saw him smile.

“It feels good being alive, doesn’t it?” he quipped, a twinkle in his eye.

Khadgar sent him a thankful gaze. He let himself fall backwards, lying on the floor. The air above him was wonderfully clear of green dust. Each of his breath felt freer than the last. It was as if he had forgotten what breathing was supposed to feel like in the past forty-eight hours. Even the blocking spell hadn’t been able to totally remind him. It felt incredible.

A clatter of footsteps made him raise his head just in time to see Lothar run and skid into the room. His hair was a mess and his skin still looked pale but he was up and obviously able to breathe freely as he shouted.

“What the hell was that!”

His gaze went back and forth between Khadgar, lying on the floor, and Medivh surrounded by a blue shield. His confusion only deepened.

“Did it work?” he asked.

Khadgar grinned up at him while Medivh nodded sagely. Even the older mage was smiling kindly as Khadgar’s joy was contagious.

“We’re going to live?” Lothar breathed out.

The rush of adrenaline made him dizzy and he leaned against the wall, chuckling disbelievingly.

“But what did you do?” he asked, brow furrowing. “That was the scariest thing ever.”

Khadgar snorted and muttered: “Really?”

Ignoring him, Lothar sent a questioning glance Medivh’s way.

“A simple cleansing spell,” the Magus said secretly.

Lothar scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t understand a word of an actual explanation of the spell that Medivh had cast. He didn’t care - all that truly mattered was that they were rid of the curse.

“Oh thank the Light,” he exclaimed, “I can finally go back to Stormwind!”

Caught up in his euphoria, he didn’t notice Khadgar’s sudden silence. If he had been paying attention to the mage, he would have seen the way his smile disappeared at once and was replaced by a look of utter and destroying despair, quickly smoothed into neutral features. Khadgar bit his lip, admonishing himself for reacting so strongly. He knew Lothar would have to return to Stormwind now - then why did he feel so torn by that?

But Lothar instead focused on Medivh and he saw the wince that he couldn’t hide. Medivh grimaced ostensibly as Lothar stared at him with a warning in his eyes.

“No, no, no, no,” the warrior began mumbling even before Medivh had a chance to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, Lothar,” he started.

Khadgar sprung upwards and it was his turn to stare at Medivh accusingly.

“What is it, Medivh?” he demanded to know.

The Magus sighed, everything in his behaviour expressing how sorry he felt for the both of them.

“It was a very powerful curse. And though we have gotten rid of its physical manifestation and you are safe,” he quickly reassured them, “there’s still a chance that you are both contagious. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone never exposed to this curse before for you to be near them. I’m sorry but I’m going to need the two of you to stay put.”

Lothar groaned loudly and slumped into a chair.

“For how long?”

“A couple of weeks,” Medivh told him as Khadgar murmured, “Weeks.”

A confusing mix of happiness and desperation bloomed inside his chest. He stared at the stone floor, unblinking, as the perspective of spending the next two weeks locked in the tower with Lothar took form in his head.

Lothar, however, looked at Medivh in horror.

“What.”

“You were both in range of the cleansing spell making you immune to the curse but the poison may have latched onto you and if so, I cannot in good conscience let you return to Stormwind. The virus shouldn’t survive more than two weeks even in you,” he explained. “In the meantime, I will figure out a way to test the both of you. You might even be free to go in less than two weeks,” he added, hopeful.

But Lothar didn’t appreciate his efforts at positivity.

“You must be kidding me,” he sighed.

Running out of patience, Medivh clasped his hands together and pursed his lips.

“I am not. Get over it.”

Lothar glared at him and Medivh smiled at him coldly. Khadgar interrupted their staring game.

“Fine,” he said, sounding resigned. “Could you bring us some supplies then? If we can’t go to Grand Hamlet, we’re going to need food.”

“Of course,” Medivh nodded. Then, turning to Lothar, he said with a wink: “Cheer up. At least you’re not dying anymore.” 

And he teleported.

Lothar let out a frustrated groan and as he slammed his forehead into the table, it turned into a low whine of pain. As Khadgar laughed at him, he flipped him the finger and ignored his answering chortle.


	14. Old friends

###### CHAPTER 14

“What about the ghouls?” Khadgar asked out of the blue.

Lothar looked up from his meal, munching slowly. Medivh frowned.

“Oh, have they finally broken out?” he asked lightly.

“Yeah,” Lothar said around his mouthful, “and they’re pissed.”

Medivh looked thoughtful. He had come back merely an hour after he had gone, bearing goods. He had left them on the ground for Khadgar and Lothar to pick up without them having to enter his protective barrier. Then, instead of leaving, he had stayed with them as they moved the food to the kitchens. Famished, they had sat down to have a well deserved meal. They had discussed the curse, first, Lothar trying to follow the mages’ conversation as best as he could, before moving on to other topics.

“They have reason to be,” Medivh said. “I had to lock them up years ago.”

“So you never tried to stop them from forming?"

Medivh looked down at his hands. “I had more... pressing matters at hand.”

An awkward silence fell. Without needing to ask, they all knew that the others were thinking about: the events that had unraveled in this very tower just over a month ago. They resumed eating their meal, neither of them truly daring to say anything else.

“So the curse. You remembered how to counter it,” Lothar brought up, turning towards Medivh expectantly.

“Yes,” was the simple answer. He waited for more but Medivh wasn’t forthcoming.

“So you were the one to put it there,” he pushed.

Medivh arched an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Why did you?”

Nodding, Medivh finally said: “I wouldn’t have wanted inexperienced mages to have access to its contents.” He turned to Khadgar. “I’m surprised you even tried to open it without taking the necessary precautions.”

Khadgar glared at Lothar. “I didn’t open it.”

“He didn’t,” Lothar confirmed. “I did.”

“Ah. That would explain it.”

“Is the book safe now?” Lothar asked, looking sheepish.

“It should be. I wouldn’t recommend you touching anything else, though.”

Lothar rolled his eyes and muttered a few well-chosen expletives, which Medivh pretended not to hear.

“You were researching magical enhancements?” Medivh asked Khadgar then.

The young mage immediately brightened up and started explaining his reasons to Medivh, who listened intently. Lost, Lothar finished his meal, tuning out the conversation. He let himself be soothed by the rhythm of their voices. He felt strangely content. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that way.

He watched Khadgar’s eyes brighten, his hands flying everywhere as he spoke. Even Medivh, despite the tired dark circles underneath his eyes, seemed to come alive now that Khadgar was presenting to him his magical theory. It was obvious that he hadn’t had the chance to exchange with someone with similar interests in a while. Afterall, he had cut all contact with anyone more than six years ago. Lothar never knew why. He had been so busy with the army and the increase in Troll skirmishes that he hadn’t had the time to go visit his friend. That or he hadn’t wanted to, while telling himself that he didn’t have the time. If he was honest, he had noticed that something was different with Medivh a long time ago. He had become darker, more silent and secretive and seemed to constantly be preoccupied about things that escaped Lothar’s understanding. They had been close once but that time was long gone.

His meal finished, Lothar settled in the back of the chair. He suddenly craved a beer and he had to mentally slapped himself. Booze had never done him any good: it dulled his senses and slowed his reflexes, leaving him even more vulnerable to his wandering thoughts. Any distraction it might have brought him had long since vanished and all it really gave him these days was a headache and a surge of self-loathing. Besides, he hadn’t been able to afford the alcohol-induced haze when he had been only Llane’s commander and he certainly couldn’t now that he was King Regent and that multiple kingdoms relied on him.

He must have been making a funny face because now Medivh was looking at him curiously while Khadgar was drawing intricate figures onto a notebook that he had mysteriously conjured up. He tried smiling reassuringly only for Medivh to frown back at him.

“And that isn’t all,” Khadgar was saying. “Wait here, I have to get something to show you.”

He grabbed his crutch and stood up. Lothar pushed from the table, reaching for him.

“Wait,” he stopped him. “I can get it for you.”

Khadgar looked at him funnily and Lothar had to fight to stay still even as he could feel his cheeks burning.

“Thanks but I got it. You wouldn’t even be able to know which book I need,” he reasoned kindly. “Besides who knows what could happen to you alone in the library,” he winked, already making his way towards the staircase.

Lothar pressed his lips together and knew better but to insist, otherwise he would make a fool of himself. He sat back down and watched with veiled worry as Khadgar climbed the stairs slowly, leaning heavily against the wall, not putting any weight onto his wounded leg.

"You know you could do something about that."

"Don't," Lothar said firmly.

Medivh rose both hands in a defensive stance and shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Without realizing, they had both let Khadgar fill the blanks that, now that he was gone, were oppressively obvious. They hadn’t had many occasions to be alone since the fight. The only times they really did spend some time together was at dinner with Taria and the royal children, when they had to play nice unless they wanted to face the Queen’s wrath. 

They weren’t angry at each other, not exactly. They just hadn’t had an actual conversation ever since Lothar had burst into Karazhan with Khadgar and Medivh had turned into a green-skinned demon right before their eyes. Lothar knew, on a practical level, that Medivh hadn’t been in control but he still had trouble dissociating his friend’s face from the one of the demon which occasionally featured in his nightmares. On some level, he thought Medivh respected that.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything,” Lothar suddenly decided to say once the silence stretched on for too long. He didn’t particularly want to seem to accuse Medivh but it was bothering him. “Yet you remembered the curse.”

“Ah,” Medivh said, as if he had been expecting it all along. “Well, that’s not exactly true. I do… remember when I was corrupted. Controlled. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Possessed by a blood-thirsty entity from another world?”

Medivh smiled dryly. “Right. You know, for a while, I was actually just myself. But everything seemed twisted somehow. I became paranoid and started to hide things from everyone, I was convinced they were out to get me.”

“Who they?”

“Everyone. And the more I isolated myself, the more I started to lose myself. Wake up in places I didn’t remember going to sleep. Bouts of amnesia that only started getting worse. Until one day I woke up but I didn’t really - I wasn’t in control anymore. And I only now realize that, because it was so gradual that I wasn’t even aware of it at the time.”

Lothar kept silent watching as his old friend’s face crunched as he recalled the unpleasant memories.

"It was as if I was watching a play," Medivh explained. "I could see and hear but I was not in control. Like experiencing the world through a thick veil… Or sleep-walking but I could see everything the whole time.”

A shiver ran through Lothar and he winced sympathetically. “Sounds awful.”

But Medivh shook his head, eyebrows scanted. “I wouldn’t say it was. I couldn’t really feel anything.”

“And how do you feel now?” Lothar asked, trying to sound detached but knowing Medivh wasn’t duped.

He sighed. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. “Some days I can barely look at myself in a mirror when I recall some of the stuff I did. That the demon did,” he corrected. Then, softly: “I miss Llane. I miss you.”

Lothar dared to look at him in the eyes. Tears welled up in Medivh’s eyes and his insides twisted painfully.

“But there’s nothing I can do to change the past,” Medivh said, looking down at the table. “And I know I have to move on. We all do.”

Lothar was spared commenting by the clatter of Khadgar coming back down, excitedly waving a book around. He was talking before he was even in their line of sight and they both chuckled at the same time. They exchanged an amused glance before turning towards the staircase.

“It’s just that I truly thinks that something can be done and turn things around, you know,” they could hear Khadgar rambling, every word or so punctuated by the sound of the crutch on the stone steps, “and this book looked really promising but it’s written in this obscure branch of Thalassian that I have been trying for days to understand and it would really help if you could-”

He yelped as he tripped on the last step. All the air rushed out of him. He threw his arms out to try to regain his balance. The two men were on their feet in an instant ready to rush to stabilize him. Thankfully he had the state of mind to put down his crutch firmly on the ground and avoid falling over. He stood still, breath coming out too quickly. His wide eyes crossed Medivh’s and Lothar’s who relaxed slowly.

“You alright there?” Lothar said gruffly, picking up a slice of bread to hide his worry.

“Yes,” Khadgar said, cut to the quick. He smoothed his shirt before making his way back to the table. It was really a testament to his nerdiness, Lothar thought, that although he could have toppled over, he hadn’t even dropped the book.

He slammed it on the table before sliding onto a stool. He opened at a seemingly random page and placed it so Medivh could read it without breaking his barrier.

“Hm,” Medivh said after a while. “Interesting.”

He levelled a gaze at Khadgar, who waited with bated breath.

“Truly impressive, Young Trust,” Medivh smiled.

Khadgar preened.


	15. Interlude

###### CHAPTER 15

Medivh stayed with them until late afternoon. At some point, they relocated to the library. Lothar had smoothly managed to stand behind Khadgar as they climbed upstairs, ignoring both Medivh’s and Khadgar’s amused gazes when they reached the room. He didn’t much care what they thought about him since Khadgar got to the library safely.

Khadgar and Medivh settled at a table, at a safe distance one from the other. They immediately delved into a conversation and Lothar tried to follow distantly. He didn’t understand half the words they used but could understand enough to know that they were trying to figure out how to reinforce the wards around the tower in order to stabilize them. Lothar had already had plenty of chances to experience firsthand how unstable it was so he tried to make himself as discreet as possible. Soon growing bored, he started heading for the stairs, thinking he would bring back a carafe of water and some glasses. They looked like they would be here a while.

“Where are you going?” Khadgar’s voice stopped him.

Lothar turned around, eyebrows rising. Khadgar was biting his lip but he didn’t look away, instead waiting for an answer. “Downstairs,” Lothar said cautiously. “I’m thirsty.”

Khadgar nodded, apparently satisfied, and dived deep into the books again. But Lothar thought he could see the flush on his cheeks and he let himself smile. Crossing Medivh’s gaze, his smile turned into a frown and he grumbled:

“What.”

“The chambers are nearer than the scullery,” the Magus remarked.

“Yeah, well, there isn’t any water in the chambers, now is there. Besides, I have to go all the way to the well and fill a cask. The last one’s already empty.”

It was Medivh’s turn to frown.

“What happened to the pipes?” he asked.

That made Khadgar raise his head and stare at Medivh dumbfoundedly.

“What pipes?”

“The pipes I installed. To get running water. Did they clog again?” Medivh shook his head and stood up from his stool. He closed his eyes and the two other men felt a slight tremor under their feet. There was the distinctive sound of water rushing suddenly before it settled into a steady background noise.

“There,” Medivh smiled. “That should be more comfortable.”

Lothar blinked and turned to Khadgar with an inquisitive stare.

“I didn’t know there were pipes,” the young mage muttered.

Medivh laughed. “Neither of you noticed the faucets?” They looked away, too embarrassed to grace him with an answer, and he only laughed harder.

“You two deserve each other,” Medivh murmured, seeming more to talk to himself than them.

Lothar flinched and would have asked for Medivh to explain himself if Khadgar hadn’t cleared his throat and redirected Medivh to their study. They resumed talking about magical theories and Lothar sighed. Now that he knew that there was running water, he climbed to the chambers to get the carafe and glasses. He also looked into the bathroom where he indeed noticed the faucet above the tub as well as the two sinks. He tested the water and was quite surprised to find out that it could become quite hot. Probably magic, he thought, as he hadn’t seen any boiler in the cellar or anywhere else.

“Magical water system,” he said aloud, amazed. “That would be nice to have in Stormwind.”

He eyed the clothes that he had thrown into the tub. Carefully he inspected them. Apart from the dirt and mud as well as blood, they were pristine: there wasn’t any trace of the green dust anywhere. He gathered the clothes into a heap which he put down in a corner of the room, clearing the tub. He could feel the sweat and grime on himself, only bearable because he had changed into clean clothes. He longed to take a nice long bath but knew it would have to wait.

After bringing the mages the carafe full of water and receiving two very distracted thanks, Lothar wandered the rows, looking for something - anything - to occupy him. He already felt restless and the very thought that he would need to spend the next two weeks stuck in here was enough to almost make him hyperventilate. Eventually, he found a book on Azerothian history and thought that it was as good a distraction as any. He settled into a sofa, tucked away from gazes. The magically lit torches provided ample lighting. Focused on his reading, the afternoon passed quickly.

Khadgar hopped his way and Lothar raised his head.

“Medivh has already gone down to the balcony, getting ready to leave,” he informed him. He seemed hesitant and Lothar waited patiently. “Are you okay?” Khadgar asked eventually, not looking at him.

Lothar closed his book and tossed it away. He looked at Khadgar, at the way the too-big shirt hung from his shoulders, the tired circles underneath his eyes, his messy hair, getting too long. He thought about the past month and the routine that he had inadvertently gotten used to. Then he thought about the next two weeks, which seemed to stretch endlessly in his head just as much as he knew that they would come to a close way too quickly. Finally, he closed his eyes tightly before getting up and stretching his back.

“Yes,” he answered Khadgar’s question. “Are you?” he asked then, willing his eyes to express how sincere his worry was.

Khadgar smiled. “Yes.”

Lothar nodded. Walking past Khadgar, he patted him on the shoulder.

“Good.”

Medivh was waiting for them on the balcony, staring off into the distance through the blue wall of his shield. Lothar stayed back as Khadgar approached him.

“Thank you so much, Magus,” he heard Khadgar say.

Medivh smiled and looked past him directly at Lothar.

“You will think about it?” he asked.

Lothar frowned, confused, until Medivh looked at Khadgar’s leg pointedly. The young man didn’t notice, too busy trying to question Lothar with a glance alone.

Lothar sighed. “I will,” he said gruffly.

The smile on Medivh’s face prompted him to stick his tongue out childishly. Medivh chuckled.

“Khadgar,” he said, “I’ll be back in three days. We’ll discuss the wards.”

Then, without warning, he drew the glyphs around him in swift sweeps of his staff. With a cast and a wink, he was gone. Khadgar turned to Lothar, with a bemused face.

“What did he mean?”

Lothar shook his head, huffing. “Nevermind. Come on. We should take care of your wound.”

Once they reached the chambers, Lothar told Khadgar:

“Sit down. I’m going to draw you a bath.”

The water rushed hot and clear, filling the tub quickly. While it filled, Lothar came back to the bedroom and cleaned Khadgar’s wound. He inspected it, not liking the pus that came out of the open fracture.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

Khadgar started: he had been staring at the wall, deep in thought. “Yeah, a bit.”

“You won’t be able to see a healer for weeks still,” Lothar said, worried.

Khadgar leaned over, grasping his shoulder firmly. “I’ll be fine,” he told him.

Lothar sighed. “Let’s hope.”

He bandaged it tightly again, checking that the splint held it stable enough. He stood up to check on the bath. He cut the water and went to help Khadgar walk over to the tub.

“Get in. Try not to wet the bandage.”

He heard the rustle of clothes being removed before the splash of a body entering the water. Khadgar hissed at first before humming pleasantly.

“Oh, that’s good,” he sighed.

Lothar closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose, bracing himself before he turned around. But even his overactive imagination couldn’t have prepared him for the sight. Khadgar was draped over the side of the tub, hands brushing the floor. He had slung his right leg over the brim and plunged the other in the hot water. He looked supremely comfortable. Lothar’s own muscles twitched at the thought of being immersed in heat right now and the reaction came as a shock to him. he shook his head to clear in and knelt by Khadgar.

Without thinking, he brushed Khadgar’s hair away from his forehead. Khadgar started as if he had been stung and Lothar immediately withdrew, flushing crimson.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No,” Khadgar said hurriedly, “it’s fine. I didn’t expect it, is all.”

SIlence hung in between them, Lothar refusing to cross Khadgar’s gaze. A sudden rush of braveness prompted him to grab the nearest bottle of soap and offer:

“I could wash your hair.”

Khadgar nodded slowly and closed his eyes so Lothar wouldn’t see how blown out his pupils were. He tried to relax again in the tub but couldn’t get rid of the knots in his stomach.

“Wet your hair,” Lothar asked kindly.

Carefully, Khadgar slid down and plunged his head underwater. He stayed under just long enough for his hair to drink the water and then resettled comfortably. Lothar searched for a jug and proceeded to pour water over Khadgar’s forehead and his shoulders, carefully brushing his hair backwards and away from his eyes. Then, he poured shampoo into his hands and rubbed it in between them to warm it. He covered all of Khadgar’s hair before massaging the soap into the strands.

Khadgar’s hair had grown in the past month. Lothar doubted he had cut it or even ever thought about doing so. Hair seemed to be to him just an inconvenient, just like it was for Medivh who had let his grow in the years he had locked himself in the tower. Now, it seemed Khadgar was repeating history: his brown hair gathered and curled on his nape. It was long enough that he could tie it all together neatly. It didn’t seem to bother him too much yet, though Lothar had noticed how often he tucked it behind his ears or dragged a hand into it, pulling just a little too hard.

Gently, he scrubbed Khadgar’s scalp, fingers moving expertly across his skull. Khadgar hummed contentedly and released the last of his tension, slumping in the tub. After a little while, he murmured:

“I’m going to rinse, now.”

With the jug, he cleared Khadgar’s hair of most of the soap. Then, with a gentle push, he indicated that he could dive underwater again. He scrubbed the rest of the soap away while Khadgar’s hair floated in the water. Khadgar’s eyes stayed closed, his mouth falling open slightly. Lothar swallowed, fighting the sudden dryness in his mouth.

Khadgar emerged as soon as Lothar’s hands left his scalp. He shook his head to get rid of the excessive dampness before settling back against the side of the tub. The water moved languidly around his torso, attracting Lothar’s gaze. It hitched against the violently purple bruises on his skin, caused by his fall just two days ago. Lothar winced silently at the side and wondered how the young man could smile and act so naturally when every inch of his body must have been hurting. He shook his head, cursing mages, idiots, and idiot mages in his mind.

He thought he had seen a brush in one of Medivh’s cupboards. He squeezed Khadgar’s shoulder as he stood up.

“Stay here.”

It only took him a couple of seconds to find the brush. He sat down behind Khadgar, who hadn’t even opened his eyes. Lothar’s heart skipped a beat as he realized just how comfortable Khadgar was right now, breathing slowed down until it was near imperceptible, eyelashes quivering over his cheeks. Lothar had to remember to breathe.

Very slowly, he started brushing Khadgar’s hair. It was soft under his fingers and even the hardest knots gave in to the brush quickly. Even after all the knots had been untangled, Lothar kept running the brush through Khadgar’s hair. He glanced at Khadgar, whose mouth was hanging open slightly, eyelids fluttering, features entirely slack.

“Are you asleep?” Lothar asked, amusement laced in his voice.

The only reaction Khadgar gave was a low, drawn-out hum.

Taking advantage of how relaxed he now was, Lothar put the brush down and rubbed his palms before placing them on his skin, kneading at his shoulders, pushing against the hard knots in the mage’s back. He moaned audibly and leaned his head forward for better access. Lothar huffed, amused. He pushed his finger over Khadgar’s clavicule, in hard, precise strokes. He tried to ignore the way his fingertips tingled at the feeling of Khadgar’s soft, damp skin. He moved up, massaging one shoulder after the other. 

Even after he was done, he rested his hands atop Khadgar’s shoulders, not moving away. Khadgar stirred and placed a hand atop his own. He turned around to cross his gaze. His eyes, open and honest, searched his face for an answer to a question Lothar could only guess.

His fingers brushed his skin so gently.

“Lothar,” he murmured.

A shiver shook him from his daze. He flinched away from the touch and watched as Khadgar’s face fell. He jumped to his feet and turned his back to the tub. Quickly, he said:

“I’ll let you wash up.”

Not waiting for Khadgar’s answer, he ran from the room.


	16. Regrets

###### CHAPTER 16

Khadgar rested his head against the rim of the tub and groaned. Lothar’s reaction confused him but didn’t exactly surprise him. That was almost all of his interactions with Lothar: half-truths and unsaids and aborted gestures that left Khadgar reeling and aching.

The water in the tub had cooled to an uncomfortably mild temperature. Khadgar grabbed the soap and began scrubbing himself. With each layer of grime that was removed and floated in the dirty water, he felt himself becoming more like himself. With clear headedness came regret.

He shouldn’t have reached for Lothar. The man was doing something nice for him, taking care of his hair for him, because he was injured and tired, having, in a day, cast quite a powerful spell to cleanse the whole tower and discussed arcane theories with Medivh for hours. Not to mention all that had went on the day before.

As the memories of the ghouls rushed back, Khadgar groaned. Medivh had told him of the spell to seal the gate to the crypt again but Khadgar wasn’t satisfied with that. Even now, several stories up the ground, he felt as though he could hear the groans and whines of the undead roaming the crypt. He wasn’t scared of them - he had proven to himself that he could handle them easily. But that wasn’t his issue. It wasn’t right to leave them to their misery, to lock them up until the spell lost its force again and they came wandering the tower again, looking for something - a purpose, a reason for why they were brought back to life. And what kind of life?

Khadgar sighed. With his toes, he unplugged the tub and watched as the water was siphoned away. He unhooked the shower head and proceeded to rinse himself. As he grabbed his length to wash it, he realized it was still half-hard and another sigh was pried from him. He stroke himself once, trying to quell the burning shame that suddenly ignited his body. He tried to empty his mind of all thoughts of Lothar but he kept going back to the feeling of his fingers running through his hair, the heat of his breath against his neck, his hands on his shoulders. 

Lothar’s ministrations had felt good - too good. They had clouded his judgement and made him think that more was offered than actually was. Each of his strokes had been shots of pleasure through Khadgar’s body, gathering low in his belly. The first touch had been the spark that the sleeping fire in Khadgar had been waiting for.

Sighing, he knew he had lost the fight against himself. He closed his fist around his length and started stroking it slowly. The friction finished what his damned thoughts had started and soon he was hard and aching. He braced himself with a hand against the wall. He pumped his cock faster and faster until he was so aroused that he started moving his hips in time with his hand, fucking his own fist. It felt like too much and too little at the same time but he pressed beyond the frustration to reach his climax. It built up and exploded inside him all too fast and he was left breathing heavily in the quiet bathroom.

Suddenly over aware of his surroundings, he strained his ears for sound beyond the closed door. Only silence answered him but that didn’t help his anxiety. Quickly, he rinsed himself, staring as his spent was rushed down the drain. He passed a hand on his face, pushing his eyes in. His body was slowly coming down from the heights of arousal and he was all too aware of his exhaustion. By the time he stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel, he was shivering violently. Before he exited the bathroom, he dried himself summarily as well as his hair. Then, wrapped in the towel, he stepped out.

The room was empty. Relief filled him, quickly followed by disappointment, itself soon replaced by shame. Khadgar repressed each emotion violently, not wanting to dwell on why he felt them in the first place. He was only a man, he mused as he picked up the clothes that Lothar had left for him on the bed, and a man had needs. He had only seen to those needs, there was nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. Still, he wouldn’t have known what to do if Lothar had been on the other side of that door, waiting for him, and perhaps even hearing him.

Suddenly feeling way too hot, Khadgar walked briskly towards the window and unlocked it, letting in the wind. Clouds were gathering in the sky and the air was damp and heavy, foretelling a storm. He stood before the window, breathing in deeply, letting the wind finish drying his hair.

His stomach protested loudly, pulling him out of his reverie. Without bothering to put on his boots, he hopped over to the kitchens wherein he helped himself to a bit of bread with the cheese that Medivh had kindly brought them.

He heard the sound of something hitting another repeatedly and he curiously peeped into the stables.

Lothar was there, swinging his sword expertly and hitting the dummy with increasing strength. He had removed his shirt at some point and sweat dripped off of him, mingling with the hair on his back, getting caught in the clefts of his muscles. Khadgar’s breath left him all at once.

A familiar heat pooled low in his stomach and he almost cursed himself out loud. Now that the fear of dying by a cursed book was gone, he had no idea how he would be able to survive two weeks stuck with the warrior. He couldn’t even go ten minutes after an orgasm without feeling all hot and bothered by the sheer sight of him. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, he turned around and quickly climbed the stairs, not wanting to be caught staring.

Lothar stopped hitting the dummy and turned around. He thought he had heard something but the entranceway was empty. He huffed and dragged a hand through his damp hair. He desperately needed a shower but he had needed to cool off after that little scene in the bathroom. He had no idea what he had been thinking, offering to wash Khadgar’s hair and going as far as giving him a massage. When Khadgar’s breath had brushed his cheek and lips, he had almost given in and leaned in to kiss the mage. He was pretty sure that Khadgar would have left him, too. And maybe that was what made this so utterly unbearable.

He could have kissed him, could have slid his fingers into his hair and pulled him in. He could have risen on his knees and Khadgar would have turned into him and they would have embraced. Khadgar’s damp chest against his, wetting the front his shirt, forcing him to remove it. He would have smiled and Khadgar would have too, albeit a little shyer. And Lothar would have had no other choice but to catch his lips in a searing kiss again. Then, he would have gotten up and pulled Khadgar to a standing position, helped him out of the tub. They would have stayed there, standing, Khadgar stark naked and dripping water onto the tiled floor, Lothar in only his pants and boots, sharing breaths. They would have stared at each other, curious, slow, patient, would have ran their hands across the other’s chest in wonder, would have kissed each other’s skin. They would have walked to the bed, never once stopping touching each other. Hands would have slid across damp skin easily, softly. They would have fallen into bed together and the night would have been full of bliss.

Or maybe Lothar would have leaned in and pressed his lips to Khadgar’s, and Khadgar would have yelped and pushed him away, horrified. Lothar knew he wouldn’t have been able to live with that. And so he had pulled away, hid his growing erection as best as he could, and fled the bathroom. He had only taken the time to pull out fresh clothes for Khadgar to change into before coming down with his sword to beat up the dummy.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Lothar decided to eat a quick meal before going to bed. He thought about going to one of the guests room but then remembered that all the beds had been eaten by moths. Reluctantly, he pushed into the Master’s chamber. Khadgar was sitting in the bed, a book in his lap. He looked up when Lothar came in.

“Lothar,” he greeted him and looked as though he wanted to say something else.

“I’m going to wash up,” Lothar interjected.

He closed the door behind him a little too quickly and had to give himself a moment to just breathe. Just seeing Khadgar again had reminded him of the heat that had invaded him while massaging his shoulders, the sounds that he had coaxed out of the exhausted mage, the trust that he had shown towards him. It made his heart swell and it hurt, physically, to think that he could have done anything and Khadgar would have let him. 

Khadgar had never once given any hint that Lothar’s feelings might be requited. Of course, he had noticed how the mage reacted to his teasing but Lothar wasn’t a stranger to people acting coy around him. A few lingering glances had made him think maybe Khadgar wasn’t that unaffected by him but there a was a world of difference between attraction and romantic feelings. And that was made him hesitate.

He had tried so hard to hide his feelings for Khadgar, ever since they had become clear to him. He knew it was no use to try and make them disappear, though he had hoped what was once a crush wouldn’t turn into anything more, anything different, too raw and honest. He had hoped, for about a second, that he might keep mindlessly flirting with Khadgar and laughing in the face of his flushing. He had fantasized, once or twice, of sharing one night of unadulterated passion with the mage, with no meaning, no feelings, no promises, and they would have carried on with their lives just the same as before.

He knew now how unrealistic these thoughts had been. He didn’t just want a good fuck. And that’s what baffled him. Ever since Cally, he had never felt so strongly for someone. He wanted Khadgar and he wanted all of him - body, mind and soul. And if he couldn’t have one part of him, then he didn’t want any part of him at all. And that scared him.

So when offered with one part, he had turned away. But what if Khadgar had actually been offering more? He knew he liked him - they were friends. It was rare enough to find someone who could stand him for more than a couple hours at a time. Even his own sister couldn’t. But Khadgar accepted his presence in his tower for entire days and always received him with a wide smile and a rant about his latest discovery ready on his tongue. So, Khadgar liked him. But could he actually feel as strongly for him as Lothar did for him?

The results, Lothar concluded as he showered quickly, were inconclusive. He needed to gather more elements and for that, would need to conduct experiments. If Khadgar truly wanted him, Lothar would just have to find out.

When he came out of the shower, he braced himself to face the mage again. He thought about what he would do, how he would look at Khadgar, what he would say so that he could document Khadgar’s reaction and analyse it. But when he did step out, he found Khadgar asleep, sitting upright in the bed. His arms had slipped to his sides but the book was still on his lap. Lothar smiled softly.

He picked the book up, careful not to lose the page, and placed it on the table. He pulled the cover and resettled Khadgar more comfortably. He mumbled and stirred lightly but Lothar shushed him and he fell back into deep sleep. Lothar draped the cover over him, tucking him in tightly. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, smoothing it. Khadgar sighed in his sleep.

After slipping into pants and a shirt, Lothar slid into his side of the bed. With one last glance at Khadgar, he blew out the candle.


	17. Secrets

###### CHAPTER 17

Khadgar woke up with a start. The memory of his dream slipped out of his grasp until all that remained was the feeling of all-encompassing darkness and the panic that had woken him up. 

He was sweating profusely. He got out of the bed he couldn’t even remember getting into and padded to the bathroom. With a flick of his hand, the candles mounted on the walls lit up. He saw himself in the mirror and felt himself sag at how pale he looked. He stumbled over to the sink and leaned heavily over it. He turned the tap to freezing and splashed his face. He gasped at the shock of the cold water on his burning skin. Raising his head, he crossed his own gaze in the mirror. His eyes were sunken, dull, the white turning to yellow. His cheeks were so wan that they seemed almost green-tinted in the low light of the candles.

The bile rose up his throat violently and he spat. It triggered a coughing fit, the acid burning his throat and making him gag uselessly. He gasped for air, holding on to the sink as he coughed. Blood mixed in with saliva splattered on the white marble.

Tears stung in his eyes. He stared at the blood until his vision blurred and he stumbled. He sat on the edge of the tub and put his head between his thighs, breathing deeply and slowly.

“No,” he repeated to himself, barely voicing the word anymore.

Once he had stifled his anxiety, he listened intensely for any noise from the bedroom. The last thing he wanted now was to worry Lothar.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, Khadgar stepped out of the bathroom as quietly as he could. He grabbed a cardigan in the dresser before leaving, casting one last glance at Lothar who was sleeping soundly.

A couple hours later, when he heard steps nearing the library, he quickly picked up his books and moved. He had been progressively feeling worse as the hours ticked by and he didn’t want Lothar to see him like this.

Lothar knew that Khadgar was avoiding him. It was a true feat to do so when they were only the two of them in Karazhan but the tower was impressively grand and Khadgar seemed to know its meandering way better than him. 

Lothar had woken up alone and gone down to the kitchens to eat. Then, he had set in search of Khadgar. He thought, at first, foolishly, that he would always be able to find him in the library, whether at one of the large tables at the center of the room or tucked away in a dark corner, sitting cross-legged on a couch or armchair. Some sort of stasis spell had protected the furniture in the library as well as the Master’s bed chambers from rats and moths, Khadgar had explained once when he had expressed his surprise.

But the library was empty. So were the kitchens, the stables, the cellar. He had even gotten all the way to the crypt and called out Khadgar’s name. But the gates were still closed the way they had left them the day before, and he doubted Khadgar would have locked himself in. At least, he hoped so.

He’d then went to the grand ballroom and through to the dining hall. The ghost of the woman looking for Medivh was thankfully gone. Other shapes caught his eye, moving through time and space. A shiver traveled down his spine and he left as soon as he was sure that Khadgar wasn’t there. The opera hall was similarly deserted. A strange atmosphere reigned in the balconies and around the stage and Lothar quickly left.

This whole tower made him uneasy, he realized suddenly. The library was where they had been wrapped into a vision of a time long gone, the bedchamber reminded him of all the years that Medivh had spent alone in here - or almost alone, since his cook and Moroes had steadfastly stayed by his side, even giving their lives in service to him - with sole company a demon whispering inside his head. The rest was taut with the possibility of ghosts coming to life right before his eyes, or ghouls appearing seemingly out of nowhere, or.. who knew what else lurked in the shadows of the Guardian’s tower.

He had looked through every room he knew of in the tower. He had seen no sign of Khadgar. He knew he hadn’t left. He may be reckless when it came to his own safety but he wasn’t when it concerned other people. If Medivh said that there was a chance he was still contagious then he wouldn’t risk leaving the tower until Medivh said it was safe. He had to be somewhere around here. Lothar was starting to suspect that he fled the room the minute that Lothar entered it and they were stuck in an endless game of run and chase. What was especially puzzling was that Khadgar would not be discreet, his wooden crutch would make sure of that. And yet, Lothar hadn’t heard the noise even once since he had woken up. Perhaps Khadgar teleported away from him, he thought bitterly.

Sick of the chase, Lothar eventually gave up and figured that Khadgar would soon tire of avoiding him and find his way back to him on his own.

To occupy his mind, and save him from worrying too much, Lothar set to cleaning. He started with the clothes mindlessly thrown into a corner of the bathroom. He filled the tub with hot water and dumped liquid soap into it, making it bubble abundantly. Then he dropped the clothes in it. The water blurred with the dirt and blood. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get rid of some of the stains but he could try, he told himself, scrubbing energetically. He didn’t have anything better to do. It was only the first day of their quarantine and he felt like he was already going stir crazy.

If Khadgar wasn’t avoiding him, at least they could keep each other company, he thought bitterly. But another part of him was grateful to have some time alone. What had happened the day before in the bathroom had been inappropriate - Khadgar had probably felt as if Lothar was crossing a boundary and now he didn’t want to be near him again. Lothar couldn’t exactly blame him though Khadgar had given no indication whatsoever that his attention was unwanted. He had seemed to appreciate the massage at least. 

Lothar scrubbed even more harshly at the cloth, focusing on a stubborn brown stain. This was the shirt Khadgar had been wearing when they had gone after the ghoul, he remembered.

He thought about the impressive display of power that the mage had given that day. Lothar, on the other hand, had been powerless without his weapon. He had felt so helpless, a feeling that he had been fighting ever since Blackrock and the death of his son. Llane’s death had been the last straw. First, he blamed it on the booze so he had given that up, despite the actual pain it caused him stopping himself from reaching for a bottle every time things got a little rough. Now, though, he knew to blame it on himself. Because deep down, he was a coward.

In the midst of it all, Lothar had found himself closing his eyes tightly, reverting back to an old habit that he had let die along with his wife, more than twenty years ago. He had reached far inside of himself, looking for warmth and hope. He had prayed to the Light.

Lothar huffed and rested his arms on the side of the tub. He realized he hadn’t been paying attention to his task anymore and he let go of the cloth. He stared at the blood-stained clothes and felt frustration building inside him to unbearable levels. Refusing to give in to it, he sighed and picked up each item of clothing, twisting the water out. Then, he flattened them out and hung them off the lid of the tub. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to do.

Climbing down to the kitchens for a quick meal, Lothar found himself gazing out the numerous windows. The land around the tower was dead and wilting but this far up, he could actually see the canopy of the luscious forest that stretched endlessly to the south. A strong wind seemed to be going through them, ruffling the leaves and it looked, from this distance, like an actual sea of green rocked by waves. The sky above was the brightest blue Lothar had ever seen and the whole landscape evoked a great calm that pierced through the dark veil surrounding his mind and he breathed in appreciatively. A smile stretched his chapped lips and that’s when he made his decision.

Instead of stopping by the kitchens, he walked right through them at a quick pace. He crossed the stables upper level and went down to the cellar. He had to lean heavily against the full wooden gate for it to start opening under his weight. A breeze rushed in immediately, blowing leaves inside. He closed the gate behind him and clutched the hilt of his sword, which never left its sheath by his side anymore. He cast a cursory glance alone, refusing to be surprised by a ghoul or a specter.

But the land was still eerily deserted. Pushing his worry away, Lothar started walking intently, easily finding his way around the tower and up the hills.

The church had been standing for as long as Karazhan had, or at least he guessed so. It definitely looked as old and broken. Nobody had cared for it ever since the tower had been abandoned. Even before Medivh’s distanciation, there had been a couple twenty years in between Aegwynn’s last visit and Medivh coming to live here, where only the most essential staff had stayed behind to look after the tower. A priest had not been considered essential and so the church had been left in ruins.

Lothar crossed the threshold and had to give himself a moment to adjust to the low lighting. Windows hadn’t been a priority when building the church. It was little more than four walls, an arched entryway, a bell tower. Aegwynn, he had heard, had been a firm believer of the Light and its power. Medivh hadn’t shared this particular conviction, not that Lothar could blame him.

He himself had been raised to believe but as he grew up, his faith had dwindled until it was little more than a bitter memory. He used to go to the cathedral and listen to the priests’ praying songs. He would volunteer at the orphanage as a teenager and prayed every single day. He had been noticed for his strong faith and connection to the Light: he could feel it, which he had been very surprised to learn not everyone could. In another lifetime, perhaps, he had thought for a long time, he would’ve become a priest rather than a warrior. Knowing how to ask help to the Light had been a lifesaver on the battlefield, when he had been but sixteen, a soldier among many others, scouting the borders of the kingdom. He had learned how to mend, how to heal.

He had lost his touch when his wife died and nothing the best of the healers at the cathedral could do would save her. He had tried praying but found himself empty, hollowed out by the frightening grief that overwhelmed him. He hadn’t ever tried to reach out to the Light since.

Until now. He had dropped his mental guard down, had let himself be taken so much by surprise by the ghoul that he had fallen back onto old habits, and he had prayed for the Light to help him. Khadgar had reacted quicker and used the arcane to deal with the ghoul but not fast enough that Lothar didn’t feel that familiar warmth deep inside his chest. He had realized then that it had never left. He had just been ignoring it all this time and now that he knew it was there, it was all he could feel. It was ridiculous that he could have felt so comfortable in that moment that his warrior instincts had not kicked in when faced with the ghoul but rather his faith.

And it wasn’t the place that did that to him. That much he was sure of. Karazhan scared him. A great, profound fear in his bones. If anything, it strengthened his instincts. But Khadgar softened them. Around Khadgar, he felt comfortable enough that he did not wear his sword at all times, constantly scared that they would be attacked. And that was even before yesterday. Now, he knew for a fact that Khadgar could protect them were they attacked. Lothar trusted him in ways that he hadn’t even realized until now.

Right now, Khadgar was somewhere in the tower, avoiding him and suffering greatly from his fracture. A wound that Lothar was indirectly responsible for: he could have helped him when he had come in to the library and seen him perched on the ladder, reaching for a book that was clearly too high. He had watched him fall and along with him, his stomach had dropped. And instead of worrying, he had gone and foolishly picked that damned book up, triggering a series of events that Lothar still couldn’t entirely process.

Medivh was right, Lothar had known ever since their talk in the kitchen. He could do something to, at least, start fixing this mess. And after what Khadgar had done for him, it was the least he could do for him.

Lothar knelt down in front of the dusty altar and closed his eyes. And he prayed.


	18. The light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years late, D:BH has taken over my life. Updates might be slow.

###### CHAPTER 18

The sky above Karazhan was clear, the sky a pale cold blue. The storm had passed overhead without breaking, much to Khadgar's relief. Having grown up in a floating city, storms had never been enjoyable. The wind and the rain made for terrifying nights spent listening to the noise and wondering just who would win, the mages' arcane or the raw power of nature unleashed on them.

Karazhan was old and rose several hundred meters above ground. Situated in a crater, its top barely pierced the surrounding mountains so that you could survey the entire area around it and further. When wind blew, it howled through every single hole in between the stones and rushed through the empty corridors. Rain always found its way in, despite the wards. It seemed to not care for the magic surrounding the place, simply going where it pleased, soaking the remaining furniture and the hardwood floors.

Khadgar sat almost on the highest point of the tower. Once upon a time, Karazhan had been a place of wealth, and luxury, and flaunting. Guests came from all over Azeroth to partake in one of the Guardian’s famous party or witness one of the operas. They would arrive from the pass, having traveled through Elwynn, the Burning Steppes, Loch Modan, coming from the North ; Stromgarde, Gilneas, Alterac… Others preferred to fly, and so the tower was equipped with a landing site for gryphons where they could be tended to, washed, fed, and where they could rest while their masters enjoyed the many wonders of Karazhan.

Although a gryphon hadn’t landed here in decades, there was still hay in large baskets, and feathers still littered the ground. The site was protected from the rain by an awning. The tower only continued for a few meters before reaching the roof, accessible by the revolving stairs. But Khadgar enjoyed the gryphon nest, despite the danger that the ledge-less space represented.

He sat at the very edge, gazing down to Deadwind Pass and out to Duskwood and the very top of the trees of Elwynn Forest. He hugged his legs close to his chest and put his chin on his knees.

He had had a terrible headache ever since he had woken up. He had rushed to the bathroom to cough and spit and the blood that splattered in the sink had sent his mind reeling. Medivh had not said anything about relapsing. Had they messed up the spell? Was Lothar also in danger?

But he couldn’t focus long on that kind of thought. His head was killing him, he felt like his eyeballs were trying to fall out of his face. Every single sound had him jumping, he felt ants crawling under his skin, and above it all was the anxiety of Lothar finding him like this. He didn’t want to worry the other man, so every time he heard him getting closer to where he was, he would teleport to another spot in the tower. Once his mana had been exhausted, he had made his way up to the gryphon landing spot. Lothar had to know of this spot, even if his own gryphon now simply landed on the roof below. But maybe he wouldn’t think of looking for him here.

As the wind picked up, Khadgar shivered. He didn’t know what to do. He had no idea what might have gone wrong with the cleansing spell. Medivh had been sure that it had worked. Sure, he had mentioned that they might still be contagious and that was why they were still both stuck in Karazhan, but they were supposed to be safe. Khadgar did not know how to heal himself this time. He figured all that he could do now was wait for Medivh to return… again.

The wind howled as it rushed through the landing, disturbing the piles of hay and feathers. Khadgar started and turned around, looking suspiciously behind him. He thought he had heard… a whisper. He couldn’t make out the words but it hadn’t just been the wind. Slowly, he stood up, scanning the space around him. He had closed the door behind him and the stone walls were empty of any decorations. He squinted and focused on his hearing. The wind whistled.

In front of him, an image flickered. It was a tall person, entirely wrapped in a cloak and their face hidden under a large hood. They were translucid, the details of the door still clearly visible through them. 

Taken by surprise, Khadgar stumbled backwards. His foot slipped on the edge and he only barely managed to retain his balance. He stared down at the abyss behind him and shouted. He fell forward and crawled towards the wall as fast as he could. His heart was beating so fast and loud that the noise cancelled that of the noise. The hooded figure had disappeared and somehow, Khadgar knew that they were truly gone. He was utterly alone.

All of sudden, the sky flashed a pure white, as if lit up by a thunderbolt. But there was no noise and no clouds. The light receded slowly. Khadgar crawled to the edge quickly and looked around. The light focused in a single bright ray above the chapel behind Karazhan before it disappeared.

Intrigued, Khadgar used his replenished mana to teleport to the bottom of the tower and he started running towards the chapel. He approached the closed door slowly and pushed inside.

“Hello?” he called.

Only silence answered him. He took a couple of careful steps inside, closing the door soundlessly behind him. The adrenaline had made him forget about his headache for a little while but now it was back with a vengeance. Every step he made further inside the chapel was like a needle repeatedly stabbing his eyeballs. He groaned but continued forward. The inside of the chapel was lit preternaturally and Khadgar felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore, a huge weight settling on his chest. Through the light, he noticed a prone figure near the altar. Very slowly, the light died down and Khadgar gasped.

“Lothar!”

He rushed towards him but just before he could grab him, he felt a force push him backwards. He fell on his butt with a cry.

Lothar blinked, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. Everything around him seemed brighter, more defined. He turned his head at the sound of a groan.

“Khadgar,” he frowned, “what are you doing?”

The mage’s eyes were wide opened, staring at him in confusion and horror.

“Lothar, your eyes,” he murmured.

His eyes were like two burning orbs of pure light. It hurt to look at them directly. But, just as the beam and the aura that had surrounded him, it receded and soon, Lothar’s eyes were back to normal. The warrior stood up and walked towards him, extending an arm to help him up.

“Are you alright?” he asked him once he was upright.

Khadgar couldn’t keep standing - in his haste, he had forgotten his crutch and he had ran on his injured leg. Blood seeped through the leg of his pants. it was almost enough to make him pass out on the spot.

Lothar sighed and picked him up easily. Feeling dizzy, Khadgar did not even protest. Lothar put him down on a bench. He rolled up his pants and unwrapped his wound. Khadgar’s headache had shrunk to an uncomfortable throb at the back of his head.

“We better take care of this, now,” Lothar said.

Before Khadgar could ask him any question, he had put his hand above Khadgar’s leg and closed his eyes. As soon as his hand started lighting up and heat enveloped his leg, Khadgar cried out as the pain in his head spiked. He tried scrambling backwards but he found himself unable to move.

“Lothar,” he grunted, “stop.”

But he wasn’t heard. Lothar was entirely focused on his task and unaware of the mage’s discomfort. Behind his closed eyelids, Khadgar could see the warm glow that had come back in his eyes.

The operation seemed to last for hours. When the light finally disappeared, Khadgar had screamed so hard that his voice was broken. He panted as his limbs slowly started answering him again. But he was so tired that he couldn’t even move. Lothar blinked and came back to reality. He removed his hand and discovered Khadgar’s leg.

It was entirely healed. There wasn’t even a scar left behind.

Khadgar slowly looked up at Lothar, who sat down, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Lothar," he said cautiously. Their gazes crossed. "What the fuck was that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! If you've got any theories about Khadgar, I'd love to hear them!


	19. Calm

###### CHAPTER 19

After Lothar explained to him that he had called to the Light in order to heal him, Khadgar was uncharacteristically silent. Lothar thought he would be glad to not be injured anymore but the mage’s face was closed off, carefully schooled into being emotionless. But his eyes were dark and though Lothar tried, he could not cross their path. With a mumbled thanks, Khadgar left the church and Lothar let him go.

He sighed as he stood up. He figured they were back to Khadgar avoiding him and there was no point in chasing after him. Something was wrong with Khadgar but Lothar didn’t know how to make him stop running. He hoped that, sooner rather than later, he would feel comfortable enough to open up and explain. In the meantime, he thought he would let him process whatever it was on his own.

Having used the Light to heal Khadgar, Lothar felt a peculiar void inside him. He realized that he had a new well of power inside of him and he felt something akin to tiredness but it wasn’t physical. Every minute that passed, it was more bearable but he still felt the need to do something about it. He headed for the kitchen, thinking maybe food would do the trick.

At the first gulp of water he felt better. He drank an entire cup in one go, amazed at how strong he felt afterwards. He wanted to see what he could do with that new power so he went to the stables to practice on the dummy. He first practiced a few standard moves before trying to call to the Light now nestled in him. His sword became illuminated and the first strike almost cut the dummy’s head off. Lothar cackled and spent the next couple of hours trying to control the intensity of his strikes.

Meanwhile, Khadgar had found refuge in the library. He tried to focus on an arcane book. He was still trying to figure out a way to strengthen the wards in the tower using the natural well of magic that the ley lines represented. His secondary objective was to find some way to cleanse the tower and bring balance to the arcane. He wanted to free the souls trapped in here, endlessly reliving the very last moments of their existence.

He heard a clatter at the back of the room and he raised his head. He focused on any noise but now silence reigned. The air around him was still, clean dust particles floating about, catching rays of light. But Khadgar felt a weight settle heavily on his shoulders. He wasn’t alone.

Slowly, he walked towards where he had heard the sound. He walked around the bookshelf, preemptively charging his hands with arcane energy. He stepped into the aisle, hands raised.

The only thing he saw was a shadow, scurrying away. He hurried after it until it stilled, its back to him. It was a tall dark figure, looking like it was wearing a hooded cloak. He stepped towards it gently and he could swear he could see it turn its head his way.

“Alodi?” he asked gingerly.

But it couldn’t be - the former Guardian had died when Khadgar had met them, in Dalaran. They had managed to keep themselves alive for thousands of years in the cube at the Citadel until Khadgar had breached its entrance, looking for answers about the fel and Medivh. But the advice the first Guardian had given him had come with a price and they had disappeared along with the floating box.

Then who was here?

Khadgar approached slowly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise but well aware that his steps echoed in the empty library. The hooded figure turned its head towards him and Khadgar stopped. He kept his hands up in the air, hoping he might able to talk to the apparition. As he approached, the figure did not try to run away again. 

He reached to grab it but his hand slipped right through it: grey wisps stuck to his fingers, wrapping around his wrist, pulling him forward. The touch was cold and Khadgar cried out.

“No!”

The figure turned and Khadgar glanced inside his hood. Two glowing eyes met his, as white as Lothar’s had been while inhabited by the Light. Dread invaded Khadgar’s stomach and spread to his chest. He tried to free himself from its grip but it was too tight. Panic infiltrating his mind, he found himself unable to move or make any kind of sound.

He watched as the eyes turned from burning white to a sickly glowing green. His heart fell as the same time as nausea took over, making him gag. It broke him out of his paralysis and he punched the shadow wildly, aiming for the head. His fist went right through the incorporeal image. The shadow exploded into a thick smoke which kept expanding until it covered the whole room.

Khadgar blinked in the sudden darkness. The hold on his wrist tightened even more until the cold felt like it was searing his skin. With a shout, Khadgar pulled and managed to release himself. he stumbled backwards and his back hit the bookshelf so hard that he heard books topple over on the other side. He groaned and opened his eyes, surprised that he could see again.

Silence was back in the library. Khadgar looked around in panic, trying to see where the shadow had gone but he knew he was alone again. He glanced down at his wrist where the phantom touch still lingered.

It was unscathed.

Shaken, Khadgar made his way back to his table where he had left his notes and his book on arcane seals. Incapable of focusing back on this now, he left for the kitchens.

He hadn’t seen Lothar since the church but he suddenly felt the need for company. He figured he would pick up something to eat before setting off in search for the warrior. He should probably also thank him again for healing him. It was a great relief to be able to walk again. But he had been so shocked at the display of power and the way the Light had hurt as it coursed through his body, mending it, that he couldn’t say much. He knew he had confused Lothar but the last thing he had wanted at the time was to answer the man’s questions.

Lothar had let him go and for that he was grateful. But after what had happened in the library, Khadgar longed for some human interaction.

As he reached the kitchens, he quickly realized he wouldn’t have much trouble finding Lothar. The sounds of a sword hitting the dummy and Lothar’s pants and groans echoed through the cellar from the upper stables. Being careful to stay quiet, Khadgar approached the threshold in order to observe without being seen. He leaned on the wall, crossing his arms, and watched as Lothar charged the dummy over and over again.

Sparks of light flew from his sword at each impact and Khadgar quickly realized that Lothar was channeling the Light into the blade. He had never heard of anything like it. He couldn’t help but notice how focused and smooth Lothar was in his movements - a stark contrast to the brash, violent kind of fighting that the warrior usually favored. There wasn’t a single unnecessary move or step as he whirled around the dummy, hitting it in various spots, making it wobble on its base. 

A golden aura suddenly engulfed Lothar’s entre body and Khadgar had to stifle his shout. He started stepping forward but he saw that Lothar was entirely unfazed by the phenomenon. If anything, it seemed to replenish his strength and he went back to pummeling the dummy even harder. Taking a deep, steadying breath in, Khadgar turned away.

Back in the kitchen, he helped himself to some cold meat and a slice of cheese. As he munched, he let his gaze travel over the various items that Medivh had thought well to bring them. It caught on the packets of flour and he was reminded of the huge block of butter that they put away in the cold box. Suddenly determined, Khadgar rolled his sleeves up and got to work.

About thirty minutes later, he felt someone come up behind him. He was focused on kneading the dough he had just mixed so he didn’t turn to look. He didn’t need to anyway as he recognized Lothar’s heavy footsteps and breathing.

“What are you doing?" Lothar asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"Baking."

Although he couldn’t see him, Khadgar imagined Lothar’s raising an eyebrow and smirking. 

"We have a cupboard full of bread," Lothar pointed out.

Khadgar sighed but a smile pulled at his lips and he couldn’t help the joyful lilt to his voice. "Yeah, but haven't you noticed how it's all a little stale? I dont know it's like it's missing something," he mused.

Satisfied with the consistency of his dough, he picked it up and started forming it into little loafs.

"Salt?" Lothar suggested cheekily.

Khadgar laughed and turned his head just enough to glare at him.

"Authenticity,” he shot back. “A human touch. Love!"

Lothar was definitely smirking now. "... Right."

Khadgar rolled his eyes. He clapped his hands together to rid them of the excess flour. It formed a small white cloud floating in the air above him, making him smile. 

Lothar lifted himself and sat on the counter, picking up a stray bit of dough that had escaped Khadgar’s notice and popped it into his mouth. He smirked at Khadgar’s sneer of disgust and hummed at the sugary taste.

“Where’d you learn how to bake anyway?” he asked, licking his fingers.

“It was a required class at Dalaran,” Khadgar explained. “Something about having to know how to do something properly in order to conjure a passable copy of it.”

Lothar nodded. “Medivh was the one to rig the cupboards in here to be full of conjured bread, right?”

“Yes,” Khadgar said, confused.

“That explains a lot,” Lothar quipped, miming a gagging movement.

Khadgar snorted. “I liked baking,” he resumed his explanation. “I guess it… soothes me.” He grew somber then, memories from the library rising up to the surface. He used to bake whenever things got too overwhelming for him at the Kirin Tor. He’d never been good at following orders or a schedule and he often went stir-crazy. Baking helped him focus on himself for a few hours.

“I’ve never had any of your conjured food.”

Khadgar smiled. “Ironically, once you know the taste of the real thing, the conjured bread loses some of its appeal. No matter how hard you try, it’s still just a pale copy of reality. I don’t really like to do it.”

Lothar nodded, mockingly sagely. Khadgar put the dish full of sugary pastries in the oven. He whispered the spell and a blue fire lit up underneath immediately. He wiped his hands on his thighs, looking pleased. Comfortable silence fell. The smell of the slowly cooking buns invaded the kitchen, calming both of them down.

“Do you think you would have become a priest?” Khadgar suddenly asked, voice small and quiet. “If you could have?”

Surprised, Lothar stared at him for a long time before answering.

“I could have,” he admitted. “But my duty lies with my King. Lay,” he corrected roughly.

Moved by familiarity, Khadgar reached to pat him on the shoulder and only narrowly stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed the pack of flour and rolled it closed. Lothar noticed but didn’t comment though he couldn’t help but frown.

“What about you?” he asked. “You would’ve been a baker, or what?”

Khadgar barked out a laugh, only half-ironic, loud and rattling. Lothar smirked, swinging his legs like a child.

“I don’t know,” Khadgar shrugged. “I was always going to be a mage. I was never asked if it was what I wanted.”

He fell silent, staring at the flour in his hands rather than at Lothar’s face, too open, too compassionate.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured Lothar, “I like being a mage. It’s probably better I learned how to control my power. Rogue mages are quite dangerous.”

Reminded of Medivh’s uncontrolled energy when he was a child, Lothar shivered and nodded.

“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he said, quietly, smiling. “How different things could have been.”

He crossed Khadgar’s gaze and the fleeting shadow on the mage’s face didn’t escape his notice.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Khadgar forced himself to smile and he nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” He was only half-lying.

To dissipate the sudden awkwardness, he cleared his throat and went to check on the buns. He saw that they were almost ready so he found a plate to transfer them in.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he told Lothar.

The warrior stretched and jumped on the ground. “I’m starving.”

As soon as the buns were out of the oven, he picked one up and bit into it, despite Khadgar’s warning that they were scalding hot. He moaned loudly, torn between the burn on his tongue and the delicious flavor.

“Oh Light,” he exclaimed. “These are so good.”

Khadgar smiled and, for a little while, let himself forget about his problems.


	20. The storm

###### CHAPTER 20

Khadgar awoke confused. He sat up straight in bed, looking around the dark room. He patted the bed and realized Lothar’s side was empty.

“Lothar?” he called out.

Another thunderstrike boomed, making him start. The air was charged with electricity and the window rattled violently. The wind had picked up and the storm had come back their way. Another bolt of lightning - Khadgar closed his eyes tightly, curling on himself seconds before the thunder resonated. He whimpered.

He wanted to get up and go find Lothar but every strike seemed to get closer and he was trembling, paralysed by fear. He tried berating himself, calling himself a coward for being afraid of the storm, but it didn’t help. A particularly loud strike echoed and the whole tower shook. Khadgar put his hands on his head, bringing his knees as close to his chest as he could while hiding his face.

He didn’t hear the bathroom door crack open nor Lothar get closer to the bed. He only became aware of his presence when he touched his arm. It felt like getting shocked and Khadgar jumped and recoiled, eyes wide in fear.

“Hey,” Lothar whispered, “it’s me, it’s alright.”

Khadgar sniffed but before he could say anything, thunder cracked again and he yelped. Suddenly, the clouds opened up and rain began falling. The drops hit the window and the walls, drowning all the sounds. The storm now was an all-encompassing rumble. Wind found its way inside the tower and whistled. Hidden inside, they could hear water trickling in from a hole in the stones. Khadgar shivered violently.

Lothar climbed in the bed and sat next to him. He reached for him but stopped himself once he noticed Khadgar’s reaction. He was flushed against the headboard, arms wrapped against his legs, eyes jumping with every new, sudden sound. Khadgar was utterly terrified.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said, quietly but loud enough to be heard over the wind, “it’s going to be over soon. You’re safe in here. I’m here, it’s okay.”

Thunder struck again, even closer than last time. It felt like the tower would collapse. Lothar could swear that, at the same time as the lightning, he could see Khadgar’s eyes glowing. But as soon as he noticed, it was gone, Khadgar’s eyes two deep pool of darkness in the middle of his exceedingly pale face.

Lothar stood up and lit a candle. The flame danced and almost died immediately but it recovered and, though it flickered, stood strong. It lit the space in warmth. Khadgar relaxed slightly but stayed curled up at the foot of the bed.

“Can you speak?” Lothar asked him.

Khadgar worked his jaw a couple of times before being able to croak out: “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Lothar told him gently, “that’s good.”

He set the candle on the table and came back to sit in the bed, back to the headrest and legs spread out. He forced himself to take deep, noticeable breath, hoping that some instinct would spur Khadgar to follow his breathing and begin to calm himself down. He was powerless to do anything else.

Khadgar’s trembling slowed, though every new thunderstrike made him jump. The panic was still clearly present but it couldn’t keep up the same pace forever. It receded to an uncomfortable hum underneath his skin and he began to calm down slightly.

“You know,” Lothar suddenly spoke, voice all quiet and calm. He was staring at the wall in front of them, twisting and cracking his fingers. “Cally,” he stopped himself, swallowed, cleared his throat, started again: “Cally was absolutely terrified of storms.”

Khadgar frowned and turned his head almost imperceptibly towards Lothar, listening.

“She couldn’t stand them. And you know how they are in Stormwind, how the strikes resonate in between the mountains and it sounds like we’re inside a crumbling cave or something. Anyway, she hated them and she’d,” he chuckled, “she’d be crazy during them. Used to scare the hell out of me, she’d scream and thrash around, she even hit me whenever I tried to calm her down.” He smiled as he recalled, the way he did whenever he thought about his late wife. The pain was still very much alive, he expected it would never die. But the love, too, was still here, a sheen that covered each and every memory, however painful, however uncomfortable, making it something he remembered fondly. “Once, she straight up decked me in the face, she broke my nose,” he explained, head tilting towards Khadgar, eyes skidding to him, and he noticed Khadgar listening intently. “Yeah, she could throw a mean punch and the shock, it snapped her right out of the panic of the storm. She couldn’t stop saying how sorry she was but she was also laughing - you know, adrenaline and all that, stress laughing, and Light, I was laughing too even though it hurt. You ever got your nose broken?”

Khadgar smiled, a tiny thing, pale but trying. “No.”

“It hurts,” Lothar snorted, “it’s stupid but it hurts. And I was so shocked that she had punched me, it was all I could focus on. I wasn’t even angry, there was no point. Anyway, after that night, Cally, well… She was never scared of the storm again. Crazy thing.”

He let silence fall between them again. He was still lost in his memories, wrapped in them like a blanket. He didn’t really know why he had decided to share that particular one with Khadgar, except just to fill the silence, distract Khadgar from the panic crushing his chest. He was all too familiar with panic attacks himself, though his triggers were different. He had to admit, seeing the kid here, curled up in bed and so, so scared, it had brought back the memories and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a little protective, secondhand fondness snaking its way from the past and bled into reality. Or maybe it was just his actual fondness for the man that found its echo in the one he’d had for his wife.

He smiled softly as he turned to stare at Khadgar. He was staring at the bedsheets, a thoughtful expression on his face, unreadable, unreachable. It made Lothar falter but he pushed on. He reached and placed his hand on Khadgar’s knee, pushing down with the slightest of pressure but Khadgar didn’t resist, letting his legs relax and criss cross. Feeling bold, Lothar left his hand on his knee, feeling the warmth of the other’s body through the fabric. Khadgar didn’t even seem to notice.

“Storms in Dalaran are terrifying,” he said quietly. Lothar raised an eyebrow, not expecting the man to share something in return, but he leaned forward to show that he was listening. “You’re… literally, you’re in the storm, it’s above, it’s around, it’s under. The whole freaking city shakes and you’re like, it’s going to fall. This is it. The end. It doesn’t work like this, of course, and the city still floats about as if nothing’s happening but it’s what it feels like.” He was picking at a loose thread on his knee, the one not currently covered by Lothar’s hand. He picked and twisted the thread until it snapped and then he wrapped it around his finger and rolled it. “As a kid, it’s… pretty fucking impressive. It’s just… a childhood fear.”

Lothar smiled at Khadgar’s cursing, a rare, but not necessarily surprising, occurrence. He smiled in the face of Khadgar’s embarrassment at being scared of storms, something from childhood that still haunted him now, early adulthood. Something he never really got over because no one had ever shown him how. He smiled because this was one of the most powerful mage that had probably ever existed, even if he was still young, still learning, still raw, but he could learn to twist the elements and make them do whatever he wanted, he could create the biggest storm to ever shake the earth and never once lose control of it. It was the lightbug being scared of the dark. It was vulnerable, and Lothar was invited to be witness to it. 

“It’s alright, we’ve all got our irrational fears,” he offered. “I can’t stand spiders.”

Khadgar let out a surprised snort. “What?”

“Yeah. Hate the little fuckers,” he smirked. “I will yell and hide rather than crushing one.”

The laughter was now shaking Khadgar’s shoulders and he had to cover his mouth to trap the giggle in. Lothar shook his head, flushing but he was smiling too.

“How can you stand being here?” Khadgar asked, chuckling.

Lothar’s eyes widened as an answer formed in his mind and he hesitated in voicing it. He stared at Khadgar’s laughing eyes and felt his chest tighten. He knew he didn’t have the guts to pull this off. He looked away, down at his hand on Khadgar’s knee and he quickly pulled away.

“It’s alright,” he muttered.

He didn’t see Khadgar’s answering frown - he turned away, swung his legs out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. He returned with a glass of water and handed it to Khadgar.

“Here, drink. We ought to try and get a bit of sleep before morning.”

The storm still raged on outside, but it had calmed down since it had started, moving away from the tower to go assault the mountains. Each strike of thunder sounded farther and farther away, though it shook the old tower just the same. 

Khadgar took the glass with a nodded thanks. He took a few tiny gulps, clearly more to placate him than because he was thirsty. In the warm light of the candles, Lothar could see how his eyelids were drooping, sleep clearly beckoning him under now that the fear and panic of the storm had gone. He took the glass from him before he spilled it.

“Come on, let’s get into bed.”

He pulled the covers to help Khadgar slip underneath them and he went without a single comment. He snuggled under the covers, sighing. Just as Lothar was straightening up, intent on joining his own side of the bed, Khadgar’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrists.

“Wait,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Stay.”

Lothar’s breath left him, half a sigh, half a disbelieving chuckle. He bent and stroked Khadgar’s forehead gently, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as sleep finally conquered him. His hand fell from Lothar’s wrist.

Lothar slipped into bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He started, remembering the candle, and his movement jostled Khadgar, who grunted and mumbled, turning around so he faced him.

“Sorry,” Lothar murmured before getting up to snuff the candle. Khadgar’s hand was searching for him and Lothar couldn’t refuse it. He lied close to the other man, clasping their hands together, resting them between the two of them. With each new strike of lightning, he saw Khadgar’s illuminated face, relaxed in sleep. Lothar dozed off slowly, Khadgar’s warm palm pressed against his.

He woke up confused and blinded. He didn’t know what had woken him up and sleep grabbed him and pulled, refusing to let go just yet. He was warm and comfortable, a heavy weight pressed against his chest, reassuring. He shifted and tightened his arm around the soft pillow, pushing his face into it.

Something squeezed his arm again, the sensation pushing past the sleepiness and startling him awake.

“Lothar, can you let me go?” Khadgar asked calmly.

Lothar released his hold around Khadgar immediately, propping himself up with an inelegant snort and a bleary blink. He slowly took in the room, softly lit up by the light of dawn, the sheets around him, covering him and Khadgar, the proximity of their bodies. He felt himself flush before he could totally process it.

Khadgar, however, was sitting up and jumping out of the bed as soon as he was released. He pulled his night shirt off and quickly slipped into new clothes, jumping on one leg as he put on pants. Lothar blinked at him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Khadgar rushed to the bathroom from which a clatter echoed, loud in Lothar’s sleep-ridden mind. He winced and shook his head, painstakingly dragging himself out of bed. He clearly wasn’t getting any younger. 

“Khadgar,” he called, just as Khadgar rushed back out, not even giving him a single glance.

He gathered the books carelessly left on the table from the spell a few days ago, muttering to himself under his breath. Lothar was tempted to just let him do his thing and get back into bed but he didn’t like being ignored.

“Hey,” he said, a little too harsh, “care to tell me what’s up with you?”

It had the merit of catching Khadgar’s attention, if only slightly. He glanced at Lothar as if only now noticing his presence, and said, distractedly:

“I figured it out. At least, I think I did. I need to experiment but it should work. I don’t see why it shouldn’t.”

Lothar sat on the bed, feeling like Khadgar was sapping his energy in order to be so awake at this hour.

“Figured what out?” he pushed.

“The wards,” Khadgar said, as if it explained everything.

Lothar rolled his eyes and knew he wouldn’t get anything else from the mage. He was obviously very excited about whatever it was that had dragged him out of bed at the crack of dawn. Lothar waved carelessly.

“Well, have fun with that. I’m going back to sleep,” he announced, doubting Khadgar would hear.

“Yeah,” was Khadgar’s airy answer, proving Lothar’s expectations.

It brought a small smile to his lips, starting to know the man and his quirks. Figuring he would be asked if Khadgar needed help, he lied back on the bed, not bothering to get under the cover. He doubted he would actually fall asleep again. He was a soldier, used to almost sleepless nights and quick, efficient wake ups. Still, Khadgar’s energy right now was more than he could handle.

He opened his eyes to follow Khadgar around the room. He practically ran out of the room, arms full of books and papers. Lothar followed his way down by the sound of his boots on the stones until he was too far away. The silence that followed was numbing. Lothar sighed and blinked, feeling heavy and cottony. In under a minute, he was back in dreamless sleep.


	21. The experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kazoo noises*

###### Chapter 21

By the time Anduin came down, Khadgar had lost himself in his research.

He had upturned the library, books and papers lying all over the floor, the shelves, the tables in disarray. Melted and snuffed candles were scattered amongst the papers, a fire hazard that had Anduin shake his head disapprovingly even though the flames had died hours ago already. Lines had been strung in between the bookshelves and papers hung from them, heavy on both sides with ink. Anduin had to duck underneath them in order to reach the center of the room.

Khadgar sat on the floor, surrounded by heaps upon heaps of papers and books. He didn’t look any closer to being done with his research. In fact, he was entirely unmoving, eyes locked on the book opened in his lap. He wasn’t even blinking.

“Khadgar,” Anduin called, softly.

“Shhhh,” Khadgar stopped him, not moving an inch.

Anduin sighed and sat down where he stood. Carefully, he picked up the nearest stack of papers and looked down at it. It was written in the same alphabet as Anduin used and yet he couldn’t understand a word. He wasn’t even sure there were any but instead just lines upon lines of random letters without any spaces that might or might not make sense to the mage. They probably didn’t, being a result of the mage’s overactive brain, a way to exteriorise the jumps and hoops of his thinking process until he was able to properly express the spell he was working on.

Lothar discarded the papers and turned his attention to the mage. His eyes were unmoving, betraying the fact that he wasn’t reading. He looked deep in thought or at least Anduin hoped he was, instead of the alternatives of a blank mind or perhaps an unending loop of some tavern music… His brow was slightly furrowed, his mouth stiffened in a scant. The only sign that he was even still breathing was the slow rise and fall of his chest, in just a fast enough rhythm that Anduin wasn’t worried he might have fallen asleep.

He had dressed haphazardly this morning, when he had jumped out of the bed and away from Anduin’s reach in a hurry. Anduin had to duck his head in order to hide his sudden blush as he remembered the way they had woken up. It had been too long since he had woken up to the warmth and weight of somebody next to him in bed. The last person he had been intimate with had been the orc Garona, and he had been drunker than he ever remembered being, and in so much pain that the sex had been nothing more than perfunctory. He hadn’t felt the sting when she had slapped him and he hadn’t felt anything that followed. Besides, they hadn’t even been in a bed. They had parted ways right after. Anduin could barely recall the walk to his quarters where he had passed out until a soldier had come to wake him up the following morning. He didn’t like to think about that night, the grief, the anger all too recent for his liking.

But this morning… For the split second before he realized exactly who he was spooning, he had felt… at peace. As if he could stay there forever. He had wanted to, even. And that hadn’t exactly changed once he had realized who was with him.

Surreptitiously, he stole a glance towards Khadgar. He wondered how long he had been awake before he had asked Lothar to release him. He wondered whether Khadgar had thought it was inappropriate, or uncomfortable, to be held close to Anduin’s chest as he woke. Or if, on the contrary, so worked up by the thousands of thoughts that traveled at lightning speed, seemingly all the time, through his mind, that he hadn’t even spared one to their compromising situation. Focused on his task, he had only cared that he couldn’t move and as such he had asked Lothar to release him so he could get on with his duty as the new guardian of the tower.

Right. That was probably closer to the truth. Anduin smiled wryly, gaze still locked on the immobile mage. He didn’t seem to feel the weight of his stare and Anduin had no qualms in taking advantage of that. His eyes took in every single detail that he usually noticed in spite of himself. Khadgar’s chestnut eyes, round and wide, making him look younger than he was. His thick eyebrows, obviously taken care of however, his fluffy hair, that could probably benefit from being washed more often. His chubby cheeks, the scruff he insisted on keeping, as though it made him look more mature, when it was exactly the opposite. A strong jaw that the fat on his cheeks could not quite hide. A profile that Anduin was sure would only become more handsome with age, that he could clearly picture with a few lines of stress around the eyes, laugh lines near the lips, currently being worried by sharp, white teeth.

Anduin realized suddenly that he was munching on the inside of his own lip and he knew he couldn’t blame it on stress. He closed his hand into a tight fist, taking a few deep breaths to clear his head. In spite of that, he didn’t avert his gaze, instead letting his eyes follow the line of the neck into the open edge of the shirt that hung loosely on Khadgar’s shoulders.

His collarbone was visible. Anduin wanted to reach over and drag his fingers across it, to feel the shiver that would shake Khadgar. He wanted those eyes to snap and bore into his, to watch the pupil widen in confusion, apprehension and perhaps, maybe, interest. To see, reflected, clear as day, in every detail on Khadgar’s face, the same attraction that Anduin felt towards him.

Irresistibly, Anduin’s gaze drifted downwards, piercing through the sheer white fabric, breath catching as he saw the darker shadow of nipples and the unmistakable line of hair that dipped into the high waisted pants that Khadgar had thrown on this morning. They were of a slightly shimmering fabric, a deep burgundy that didn’t suit him at all. He hadn’t bothered to put on boots.

“Lothar?”

He startled, spine straightening and gaze snapping upwards to Khadgar’s face. He couldn’t help the guilt from making him wince. But Khadgar’s eyes were squinted in amusement rather than accusation and Anduin tried for a wry smile, hoping he hadn’t made Khadgar uncomfortable with his very obvious staring.

Khadgar rolled his eyes before stretching his arms and rolling his neck, making it pop loudly. He quickly got to his feet and Anduin followed, albeit slower, heartbeat falling to a more regular pattern.

Without any comment, Khadgar grabbed a few seemingly random papers and slapped them unto the table. He dragged a stash of blank papers and started drawing circles and symbols unto it, muttering under his breath. After scratching out his drawing or crushing the papers into balls a few times, he seemed to be satisfied of his result, regarding it with pride.

“This should work,” he announced.

Lothar stared at the symbol quizzically. It didn’t mean anything to him.

“Should?” he underlined.

Khadgar shrugged. “It’s experimental. But I won’t know until I try.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, though Lothar had no idea what the array was supposed to do.

“So what is it?”

“It’s a modification of the cleansing spell that Medivh used. It uses a few of the glyphs for protection and warding that I could identify in the spells surrounding the crypt in order to draw power from them, as well as words to focus the raw arcane energy of the ley lines and create a self-fueled loop so I don’t have to draw onto my own supply. With that much power, I can focus on the cleansing and banishing of undead energies, which should release the ghouls.”

Lothar cocked his head to the side, eyebrows scanted upwards. “Release them.”

“Yes,” Khadgar nodded enthusiastically, a glint in his eye. “It isn’t enough to trap them under there. I saw the piles of bones, if we don’t do anything, there’s just going to be more and more of them down there and no amount of wards will be able to keep them in. I need to clear the entire crypt of the souls and shadow energy. I don’t know what kind of spells were performed down there, but it wasn’t anything good.”

He turned somber then and Anduin resisted the urge to grab his shoulder and squeeze. He still didn’t know exactly where they stood and whether such a contact would be appreciated. Instead, he frowned in sympathy before nodding firmly.

“Alright. What are we waiting for?”

Khadgar looked at him, brightening up.

“That amount of energy focused all in one place is going to cause a stir. I’m going to need you to keep an eye out. I can put up a shield but it’ll be vulnerable as long as I’m casting the cleansing spell.”

“Of course.”

They made their way quickly down the stairs. Khadgar hadn’t bothered to put on shoes and Anduin decided against informing him. Something about the mage walking around, entirely focused on the task at hand, dressed in baggy clothes and bare foot, was incredibly endearing. He stifled the shame that built in his gut in favor of the contagious excitement coming out of Khadgar.

The gate to the crypt hang wide opened even though they had closed it before. They exchanged a glance and approached slowly, Khadgar with his hands raised and Lothar tightening his grip on his sword. 

The field was eerily quiet and it set Lothar on edge. He cast a glance all around while Khadgar focused on the crypt. Its gaping entrance was empty but they knew what lurked in the rooms underneath.

“We should hurry,” Lothar warned Khadgar.

The mage nodded and took a deep breath. He glanced at his papers one last time, memorizing the diagram. He exhaled slowly and nodded a second time, firmer this time.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Crouching down, he traced patterns into the dirt. At first, nothing happened but gradually, Lothar could see blue light beginning to fill the symbols etched into the ground, as if sipping from underneath. He stared, fascinated, until a sound grabbed his attention.

He immediately raised his sword, glancing around. Nothing moved amongst the trees and half-crumbled buildings. He listened intently but all he could hear was Khadgar’s whispering as he walked in circles near the entrance of the crypt. Even Anduin could feel the energy beginning to gather underneath his feet and it made his jaw clench.

“Will this be long?” he asked.

Khadgar only glared daggers at him, continuing his incantation.

“Just asking…”

Another noise made him turn around. There was still nothing to see. He glanced at the threatening form of the tower then. He thought he saw movement in the upper stories. He squinted but the movement didn’t repeat. He willed himself to breathe slowly and not lose his focus. He fixed his grip on his sword and turned on himself to scout every angle.

“Ok,” he heard Khadgar mutter, “ok, ok ok…”

He glanced at him, noticing his frown, the pallor of his skin.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes,” Khadgar snapped through gritted teeth. Anduin raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and he sighed. “The loop is in place. It just took a bit more energy than I thought it would.”

Anduin frowned in concern. “You gonna be alright?”

“I hope so,” was Khadgar’s answer.

Anduin took one step forward but Khadgar shouted. “Don’t!” He widened his eyes, mentioning to him to stay away. “Don’t step in it. I’m going to raise my shield now. You have to be outside of it. Sorry.”

“No problem. I can defend myself,” he reassured him.

Khadgar nodded, already focusing back on his spellcasting.

As a clear whisper reached his ears, Anduin froze in place. He focused on the noise, trying to pinpoint its source. He swiveled around, raising his sword in prevention. His eyes scoured the surroundings. He focused on the foot of the tower where he could swear he could see a shape. He blinked but the shadow didn’t move. Suddenly, it flickered. Anduin’s blood froze in his veins.

An inhuman screech rang out behind him, quickly followed by a blast. Anduin started and turned around, immediately positioning himself to start running. He saw the spectre rounding on Khadgar’s blue shield, getting ready to charge again. He yelled to grab its attention and sprinted towards it. Using the momentum, he jumped and brought his sword down heavily, slashing through the creature. It screeched again, making Anduin’s ears ring painfully. Wisps of shade followed his sword out but the spectre quickly regained its form and attacked.

Unlike the one Anduin had fought before, it wasn’t so much as disturbed by being cut in half. Its cloudy claws neared Anduin’s chest too fast for him to be able to evade them. He ducked but not fast enough, one claw catching his face. He screamed at the pain. Where the claw had hit, his skin felt simultaneously as if it was melting and freezing.

The adrenaline helped in keeping him conscious through the pain. He rose his sword and striked again and again in rapid sweeps. He threw his arm out far enough to build momentum to deal a final blow which sliced right through the creature’s neck. It gurgled and disappeared, leaving behind only a tiny heap of dust which was quickly blown away by the wind.

Catching his breath, Anduin turned to check on Khadgar. He didn’t even seem to have noticed the fight. His eyes burned blue and energy crackled in between his open palms.

Thunder resounded, making Anduin jump. The sky was white with benign clouds. That only confirmed the thunder’s unnatural origin.

Anduin felt more than saw the ghoul approaching at a velocity that it shouldn’t have been able to reach. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself in its path, unleashing his rage upon it, barely stopping one second to catch his breath before hitting it again. It tried to swing its loose limbs towards him but he expertly danced out of its reach. With one last blow to its chest, it fell backwards, lifeless.

He didn’t have time to glance at Khadgar this time. Another ghoul was dangerously nearing the shield and he focused on it. He heard thunder rumbling before another blast threatened to knock him to the ground. He jumped out of reach of the ghoul. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw two spectres readying themselves to charge the shield. He quickly dealt the final blow to the ghoul and rushed forward to take care of the spectres.

He could feel his energy rapidly dwindling and he realized that he was never going to be able to keep going at this rate. Even as he overwhelmed the last of the spectres, he saw numerous shapes stepping out of the cover of the trees, attracted by the fight and the gathering of arcane energy.

He could feel the ground trembling with the arcane focusing on the tiny patch underneath Khadgar’s feet. He allowed himself one glance at the mage, enough to see that the magic now flowed from his hands directly into the earth in an unbroken loop, bright and staticky. The sheer power currently being processed through Khadgar’s body stole Anduin’s breath away but he didn’t have the time to admire it any longer. The spectres and ghouls hovered a safe distance from them, as if hesitating.

He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught. The creatures’ hesitancy didn’t sit right with him and he opened himself to all of his senses, wanting to be aware of anything coming his way. The light in his guts suddenly encompassed his vision and hearing and he gasped. He became conscious of the negative energy that completely surrounded them. The only point of brightness was Khadgar and his shield, like a beacon in the darkness. And still, in the middle of that light, he could see a well of pure black from which the blue arcane seemed to recoil.

Moments before they striked, Anduin could feel the energies shifting and he was ready for the blow. He willed the Light he knew he had inside of him to come pouring out and it met each creature heads on, stalling them. His vision and hearing came back at once and he charged the nearest creature. He didn’t even notice his blade shining bright. As soon as the steel hit the spectre, it dissolved into nothingness.

Animated with a new strength, Anduin hacked at the ghouls and spectres around him. He heard a few get past him and start hitting the shield. Each blow created a blast of lesser intensity, a sign that the shield was weakening. Anduin could not let it break.

Instincts helping, he called on his memory of what he had learnt from the priests of Northshire. The priests hadn’t focused on combat but Anduin was sure he could twist a prayer into something useful presently.

Foregoing vocalizing, he thought the prayer with enough determination that the Light answered to his will. Golden lines etched themselves into the ground, burning each and every creature that they met in a wide radius. The screeches and howls temporarily overwhelmed the sound of Khadgar’s chanting.

Anduin had no time to gloat. He charged the few remaining creatures, quickly beating them.

He vaguely felt a shift in the energies, too focused on the fight to pay attention to it, though it sent a violent shiver down his spine. A sudden quaking underneath his feet made him lose his balance and he rolled to avoid falling. It saved him from being impaled by a ghoul terrifying long claws. Still, pain bloomed in his shoulder from where it hit the ground. He straightened up with a sneer, only barely raising his sword in time to block another strike.

A gust of wind moved past him, freezing him to his core, followed by a loud whisper. Fear filled him and his eyes immediately jumped to Khadgar, still protected by the blue sheen of the shield. He seemed totally unaware of the sound. The air left Anduin’s lungs, leaving him gasping. The minute distraction was all it took.

He didn’t even feel the claw that pierced his stomach, tearing through him and bursting out of his back. He fell to his knees, gasping uselessly. As his vision blackened, he could see creatures swarming around Khadgar, wisps of arcane shooting out of him like lightning, exploding against the inside of the shield. With his last conscious thought, Anduin prayed.


	22. Aftermath

###### Chapter 22

The whole world was grey. The edge of his vision was blurry, no matter how many times he blinked. He couldn’t hear anything but whispers of whispers and they seemed so far away. He couldn’t focus on them. Everything seemed so far away…

Bursts of blues and greens. He took a breath he didn’t need. He took a step forward, could almost feel the solid ground underneath him. Looking down, he saw right through himself. Was he real? Was this real?

Turning his head around, he recognized his surroundings as the field around the tower of Karazhan. Why was he here…? He couldn’t remember. He knew he should but… He couldn’t. Turning his head the other way, he had to squint to protect his eyes. His eyes? Did he have eyes?

It was so bright, he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so bright except for the sun. That’s it. It was like a tiny sun, pure light all gathered in a circle in front of him. He thought it should feel warm. He couldn’t feel anything.

He took another step forward. Whispers, suddenly loud, made him look away from the sun. Stones. Writing. Could he read? Tombstones. He stumbled away from the cemetery. He couldn’t stay here. He had to get nearer to the light.

In an uneven beat, the sun pulsed, tiny blasts of fire and lightning, like a heartbeat. He ached to feel its heat on his skin. His… skin?

He tripped and barely recovered his balance. Uneven soil. Steep slope. Be careful or you might slip… He jumped down. He couldn’t feel anything.

The closer he got, the brighter the sun was and yet he could stare at it. If he squinted, he could start seeing something inside the sun. A figure. Someone was here. Maybe they could help. Maybe they could…

It wasn’t someone. It wasn’t a figure. It was a hole. A deep, black hole in the middle of the sun. It threatened to swallow it whole. To swallow him whole.

He faltered.

Whispers. He turned around, the world swam around him. There was something he needed to remember. Tombstones. The sun. The hole.

He tripped. He fell. No. He is standing upright. Where is he?

He looked down. He couldn’t feel anything. A body. 

His body.

Wait. He blinked. The sun. The tombstones. A bright, bright figure standing near the cemetery. Watching him. Nodding at him slowly. Acknowledging him.

A whisper.

“Go…”

Go? Go where? He didn’t know anything. He crouched down. He touched his body.

He screamed.

The whole world was grey. And all at once it was engulfed in pure light, gold and silver and burning, burning, burning.

The first breath he took burned. The second was better. The third triggered something inside his chest and suddenly he could feel… everything.

The Light healed the last of his injuries and Anduin startled upright. His hand automatically pressed against his stomach and grabbed at his flesh. Intact.

He was alive.

The sun. The shield. The creatures. Whispers.

Khadgar.

Anduin blinked the last of the confusion out of his brain and struggled to his feet. The field was illuminated in bright blues. The ghouls and spectres were still surrounding them, rushing forward with loud screeches. Turning around, he had to squint to protect his eyes from the sheer brightness coming out of Khadgar. Or rather, Khadgar’s shield. It was so bright that he could barely make out the shape of the mage inside.

He saw Khadgar turn and stare in his direction. His arm straightened, pointing directly at him. A ball of pure arcane energy shot towards him, too fast for him to do anything more than raise his arms to block, a useless reflex. But the arcane surrounded him in a tight shimmering shield. Just in time.

Khadgar’s bubble shield exploded as if made of glass and arcane came bursting out. It manifested itself as a huge gust of wind which Anduin felt even inside his own personal bubble. The energy wiped the remaining creatures, making them disappear almost instantly. They only had the time to screech louder than Anduin’s ears were capable of bearing. He screamed as his head erupted in pain.

Silence returned almost immediately and Anduin panted. Tears spilled out of his eyes and spit dribbled down his chin. He spat and wiped his chin. Through watery eyes, he looked around. His shield had somehow held strong, still trapping him inside. The field was entirely empty except for Khadgar.

He stood still, staring at the sky. The clouds had parted and the sun shone through, basking the field in golden hues. Anduin thought back to the grey and cold and he longed to feel the heat of the sun on his skin.

He thumped against the shield.

“Khadgar!” he called out.

The mage turned his head towards him. His eyes still shone blue and he looked around, unseeing. Anduin’s breath caught in his throat, heart constricting uncomfortably.

But Khadgar blinked a few times and the blue light receded. Khadgar slumped and Anduin feared that he would pass out on the spot.

“Khadgar!” he cried.

The mage stumbled but remained standing. Awareness came back to him slowly. His eyes caught Anduin’s through the blue screen. Almost instantly, the shield disappeared.

Without thinking, Anduin rushed forward. He grabbed Khadgar’s arms and pulled him flush against him. A surprised laugh escaped Khadgar and he wrapped his arms around Lothar, holding him tight. They wobbled in place for a moment, holding onto each other for balance.

Anduin breathed in the scent of Khadgar, feeling his warmth through their clothes, his presence underneath his hands and against his chest. It was the best feeling in the whole world. He wasn’t ever going to let go.

Eventually, he had to, because Khadgar was pushing him away, still laughing slightly. It brought a giant grin to Anduin’s face and he let it. His joy was bubbling inside of him, wanting to spill out in more than one embarrassing way. His eyes were still watery and he didn’t even care.

“Did it work?” he asked Khadgar, full of hope.

Khadgar grinned.

“Yeah, I,” he chuckled, disbelief clear on his face, “I think so, yeah.”

Lothar giggled, feeling light and giddy. He dragged Khadgar close again, needing to feel him close. A slimmer of self-consciousness managed to get past his joy and he released Khadgar with a bit of guilt, opting instead for whooping and jumping in place. His limbs felt jittery, his mind like it could burst. He felt like running everywhere and rolling in the grass. He felt infinite.

Khadgar watched him and laughed. He still couldn’t quite believe that he had succeeded. He didn’t even have to check the crypt, he knew he had been successful. He had felt it when his shield had finally broken down and the arcane energy had been free to flow outwards, cleansing everything around it. The very soil they stood on had been cleansed of its darkness. Centuries of taint washed away in a couple of minutes.

And yet, his joy was immediately dampened by another insidious feeling. Because Khadgar remembered, in the midst of spellcasting, how he had felt. The power that he had held, the possibilities that his mind could imagine while wielding this much pure energy. The satisfaction that he was able to control the arcane and bend it to his will. Khadgar remembered the whispers, promises of brilliance and greatness. Because he had wanted more even as he wielded more energy than he ever had in the past. Because he had felt the heat of the power and he hadn’t burned. Because, even as he had focused his entire will power into keeping his control, Khadgar had been scared. And because, through the glaze of the arcane, he had seen Lothar be stabbed through the chest, the claw piercing him straight through. Because he had seen Lothar die.

And yet Lothar was standing right in front of him, his own joy not overcast in the slightest. His laughter was contagious and Khadgar smiled dazedly as he watched him. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, the sight of him being stabbed still at the forefront of his mind. Had it even happened? Had it been a vision? Had he imagined it?

Lothar noticed his staring because he sobered up slightly, stepping in close to him again, hands automatically grabbing his forearms.

“How do you feel?”

Unable to voice a reply, Khadgar nodded instead and it seemed to placate Lothar who let out another bellowing laugh. He pulled and dragged Khadgar into a twirl.

“Oh Light!” he exclaimed. “That was so scary!”

He stopped still, face tilted upwards, eyes closed. The sun shone on him, illuminating his wide grin. Khadgar scoffed, letting himself relax. Lothar glanced down at him and their gazes locked. Khadgar frowned as he noticed the blood on Lothar’s face. He reached and put his hand on his jaw, tilting his face so he could check for injury.

He brushed his thumb across Lothar’s cheek, mesmerized to see that the skin there was unscathed. The blood there looked fresh but already it was drying as Khadgar looked on in shock. He was so taken aback that he didn’t even notice the smirk that bloomed on Lothar’s lips until he spoke.

“Khadgar?” he asked softly.

With a start, he realized how close they were. His hands became clammy and his breath hitched. Lothar’s eyes crinkled as his smirk turned into a kind smile which Khadgar returned dazedly. This close he could see even the tiny specks of gold in Lothar’s irises.

This should have felt awkward and yet Khadgar felt as if he never wanted to move away. With the hand already on Lothar’s face, he cupped his jaw, thumb brushing against his unruly beard, hovering over his chapped lips. They opened on a sharp intake of breath and Khadgar’s eyes flickered over to them. Tongue flicking out to wet his own lips, Khadgar focused intently on Lothar’s mouth and began inching closer.

With a small chuckle, Lothar turned away, gazing in the distance, cheeks bright red. He took a step back away from Khadgar’s reach. Khadgar felt a lead weight fall unto his stomach and his heart constrict. He closed his outreached hand into a fist and his eyes tightly, letting the disappointment wash over him. But instead of it settling into cold gloom, it turned sour and hot, pure frustration that spurred him forward.

He grabbed Lothar’s arm and pulled.

“Lothar,” he called softly.

He turned to him, surprise etched into his features. It calmed Khadgar’s anger at once and he smiled at him fondly. He shifted his hand from Lothar’s arm up to his shoulder while his other hand settled on his cheek, turning his face just so. He stepped forward, bringing them almost chest to chest and tilted his face upwards, going deliberately as slow as he was able, fighting against the violent urge to rush forward. He wanted to give Lothar one last chance to pull away.

But Lothar didn’t. Realization dawned on his face, his mouth falling open in such a way that had Khadgar grinning widely moments before Lothar closed the distance between them.

Their lips met and their chests were flushed together. Lothar’s hands immediately grasped Khadgar’s hips, pulling him even closer. He kissed him forcefully, all hesitation gone the moment their mouths touched. 

Khadgar pushed everything into the kiss, the sense of urgency that hadn’t quite left him yet, the adrenaline after the powerful spell, the fear of seeing Lothar be struck down, the elation at having succeeded. He let it all overwhelm him as his lips moved against Lothar’s. Everywhere Lothar touched him burned deliciously and still he wanted to press impossibly closer to the man. He moaned unashamedly as Lothar turned his head to deepen the kiss.

The sound triggered Lothar’s chuckling and soon they had to part so they could both catch their breaths and laugh. But they didn’t step away, instead Lothar put his chin on Khadgar’s shoulder and Khadgar put his face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I saw you get hurt,” Khadgar spurted out.

That stopped Lothar short. He pulled back just enough to cross Khadgar’s gaze and when he saw the fear in his eyes, his face softened. He brushed his thumb right under his eye and Khadgar sighed, nuzzling his palm.

“I used the Light. I healed myself,” Lothar explained, apologetic.

Khadgar regarded him with wonder and instead of answering verbally, he pulled him in for another kiss. Lothar responded enthusiastically, almost making them topple over to the ground. They laughed breathlessly before Khadgar took a step back, grabbing Lothar’s hand.

“Come on”, he urged him.

He started walking backwards, unwilling to tear his gaze away from Lothar’s, until he was forced to look where he stepped. He led them back to the tower and they quickly made their way up the stairs. By the time they reached the chambers, they were breathless again, alternating between unrestricted bouts of laughter and kissing each other madly. Each glance they shared was filled to the brim with disbelieving joy.

They stumbled into the bedroom, unable to keep their hands off of each other long enough to be careful where they stepped. Khadgar tripped on his own boots, haphazardly left on the ground near the bed and they toppled unto the mattress.

Regaining his balance faster, Lothar climbed on top of him, his long hair tickling Khadgar’s face. He kissed his lips before dropping a kiss on his cheek, making his way down his neck as Khadgar squirmed. With a laugh, Khadgar managed to push him away, one hand set firmly on his chest. Lothar hovered over him, a question clear in his eyes. Khadgar fisted his hand into Lothar’s shirt and pulled.

It was all the answer that Lothar needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened afterwards: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916666 (rated E)


	23. The night

###### Chapter 23

Something is wrong. Something is terribly utterly wrong.

When Khadgar opens his eyes, he can’t see. He is surrounded by darkness, pitch black, unnatural. He blinks, trying to make out shadows in the dark. He turns his head in the direction he knows the window is.

He can’t see anything.

His breathing is starting to quicken and he is trying his best to stay calm. He needs to think, to find an explanation, and a solution, and he needs not to panic.

He reviews the information he receives from his other, still functioning senses. They’re sluggish, stifled and distorted by his growing anxiety. All he can hear is his own loud breathing and the known noises of the tower, familiar and reassuring. The creak of the floorboards, the wind through the cracked stones, the whistle of the water running through the pipes. They’re grounding.

He is lying on the bed. He can feel the soft linen on his naked skin. When he moves his hands, he feels the coolness of the fabric where he isn’t lying.

He feels drowsy. As if moments away from being dragged back into sleep. He fights against the pull of sleep and seats up. Reflexively, he reaches for the other side of the bed. He pats the empty space, frowning - isn’t there supposed to be someone here?

But he doesn’t remember. He tries to search his memory but his head hurts and swims uncomfortably, so instead he focuses back to the present. He removes the sheet covering him and gets out of bed. The cool air hits his naked skin, raising goosebumps and he shivers. Blind as he is, he has to search the floor with his toes to find his clothes. The floor is freezing to his feet but he pushes on, padding outside the room.

The staircase is as dark as the bedroom. Uneasiness twists in Khadgar’s gut, ignored in favor of investigating. He gulps - the sound seems overwhelming in the silence.

Slowly feeling out each step before stepping, Khadgar makes his way down, hoping to reach the library.

He doesn’t realize how deafening the silence is until he pushes the library door. He braces for the loud creak he has grown used to but it never comes. He swings the door on its hinges, trying to hear its squeaking. It stays stubbornly silent. Panic bubbles back to the surface, stronger now, as he realizes that he has gone deaf.

He can’t hear. He can’t see.

He hyperfocuses on the coldness of the metal knob in his hand, the grain of the wood under his feet.

He calls out and even though he can’t hear, he knows he hasn’t made a sound. His throat is closed off, barely enough air traveling through it to keep him breathing. 

He takes a step forward, hand outreached in order not to bump into anything.

His foot never touches ground. 

He thrashes wildly, only distantly aware that his limbs are moving, not meeting any resistance at all, not even that of air. Khadgar is floating in nothingness.

He can’t feel. He can’t hear. He can’t see.

He screams but makes no sound, not that he could hear it. And then he can’t breathe.

The panic is but a distant thing now, getting farther and farther away from him with every second he is deprived of air.

A light appears far in front of him. Just the tiniest flicker of life. It grows and grows as it gets closer - or perhaps, as he gets closer to it. Obeying to some slumbering instinct to run in its direction. But is he running? He doesn’t know where he ends and the darkness begins anymore.

The closer the flame gets, the louder it gets - a great, rushing sound, and the warmer too. It basks Khadgar in its heat and light, comforting, welcome. But what is warm soon becomes scorching and the light turns blinding.

Khadgar screams but his voice is drowned by the blast of the fire. He is completely surrounded by the flames.

It is snuffed suddenly and Khadgar is thrust forward. He stumbles. The noise registers first - the distant sound of explosions, the roar of war cries, the crackles of nearby bonfires.

He swivels, looking around, taking in the sight of the red desert soil, the military banners, still in this inhospitable atmosphere, too warm, too dry. He inhales and the stench and the smoke makes him choke on his own breath.

He is shoved in the shoulder and he barely avoid tumbling to the ground.

He turns and crosses the heavily armored man’s gaze. A white beard. Bright blue eyes.

“Don’t just stand there, soldier! They need you on the field. For the Alliance!”

Automatically, Khadgar moves to follow the order. But he doesn’t go far. In fact, he realizes with growing horror that his foot hasn’t even lifted from the ground. He is rooted to the spot, forced to be but an observer to the chaos around him. He can’t speak, can’t move. Can’t cast. 

Khadgar blinks. The soldier - a general, he thinks - charges into battle. 

In the field below, Humans and Orcs fight with such a rage that it is hard to see whether there is actually two armies meeting. Cannonballs whistle overhead, hitting the ground with huge blasts, knocking everything and everyone to the ground. Weapons slash and whack, meeting flesh and bone with wet squelches, in a gush of blood. Red and green meet and mix in the dirt.

Khadgar looks on in horor. He pinches his arm, wanting to check he isn’t dreaming - wanting to wake up. He can’t make sense of what he is seeing. He sees the Horde’s unmistakable red banners in the distance, and similar blue ones, on the other side - his side - that resemble Stormwind’s. But he can’t recognize where he is nor who these soldiers fighting around him are.

None, except for one.

Khadgar watches as the general makes his way into the thick of the battle. Orcs fall dead around him, a mere inconvenience on his path. He moves with a purpose, clearly heading for the line of observing enemy war chiefs on the fringe of the battle. They are mounted on huge wolves and their red banners hang from their pikes.

The Orcs seem to have noticed the same intention as Khadgar. A ripple runs through the line. A threatening figure steps forwards and the others gather behind him. They watch as the Human general tears through their ranks, all at the same time coordinating and galvanising his own troops. For a second the Humans seem to have the upper hand. But they’re once again overwhelmed by the Orc warriors.

The general finds himself separated from his soldiers. But instead of being the immediate target of the Orcs surrounding him, he keeps on moving forward. The Orcs standing in his way lower their weapons and step inside to let him pass. They recognize him and hang their heads in respect - a strange and powerful gesture.

Before long, the remaining Humans are reduced to small groups, being surrounded and gathered like herd. They are forced to switch to defensive tactics but the Orcs are not aggressive anymore, simply keeping the Humans in a large circle, unable to escape.

The mass of Orcs part to reveal the Human general facing the large Orc. The sight causes a visible shock to the Humans. One even tries to surge forward and rush to air his general but he is immediately pushed back into the circle.

As the awareness of what is about to happen dawns on him, Khadgar feels the need to move forward. He still can’t but now it is almost unbearable. He knows what is about to happen even though he has never seen it. He knows, distantly, because his memories are still kept under lock and key no matter how much he reaches for them, that the Human general has already been in a similar situation and managed to get out alive. He knows that this time will be different.

He yells and pushes against the forced immobility of his limbs, to no avail. In the field, everything falls silent and still as the two champions face each other.

What starts as a whisper quickly turns into a roar. The Orcs raise their weapons and shields, slamming them together in beat with their chanting, while the Humans wail in despair.

“Mak’gora! Mak’gora! Mak’gora!”

Time seems to slow down as Khadgar’s heart quicken and his blood runs cold. He sees the two champions circle each other, both too smart to deal the first blow. They won’t let their guard down for a millisecond. Everything seems so slow - too slow.

He feels the presence before he can see it or even smell it. It’s warm, heavy in an uncomfortable way and he shivers. Suddenly able to move, he turns to face the presence. He recognizes the shadow, knows he has faced it before. He knows he is scared of it, but the fear only reaches him faintly. 

The shadow does not have a face. It seems to repel light, like you could reach your hand through it and it would disappear from sight. But while Khadgar observes it, trying to pinpoint where and when last he has seen it, it starts changing. Color comes back to its form, a deep burgundy, and texture, wool, of a cape warped around a tall, thin yet muscular figure. The hood is pulled back to reveal long blond hair and a youthful face, clean-shaven, which only highlights the deep green eyes. Khadgar registers the shock without planly feeling it.

“Medivh,” he says.

The Magus smiles, small and kind.

“Look,” he says, gesturing back to the field.

The two champions are still circling each other, their movements slowed. But suddenly, the Orc charges, his great axe swinging, heading directly for the Human’s chest. He doesn’t have time to dodge. Khadgar knows this.

_Anduin_.

The thought rips through him, burning and painful.

So he screams and for the first time he hears himself, anguished, hoarse, so loud. And time stops.

And suddenly Khadgar can move. He stumbles forward and falls to his knees, realizing at once how tense he was just a second ago. He struggles to move forward, desperate to reach the field. But he can feel himself slowing down with every step until he is once again paralysed, yards away from reaching the duel.

He rages and yells until he feels the presence besides him again. He falls silent, tears drying on his cheeks, exhausted. The shadow - Medivh, although younger than Khadgar has ever known him - stares at the paused scene in front of them, the two champions facing each other. The orc. And Anduin.

Khadgar remembers it all now. Horror dawns on his face as he realizes what is happening. This isn’t real, he tells himself, this is a nightmare. Or a vision.

Khadgar doesn’t want to see this anymore. He wants to wake up, wants to curl into Anduin’s side and forget what he has already seen. Tears blur his vision. He blinks them away. Nothing changes.

“You don’t have to watch this,” the shadow tells him in Medivh’s voice.

How?

He can’t voice the question but it doesn’t matter.

“You can stop this.”

Khadgar doesn’t have to ask. The answer is given to him in the shape of a flame, hovering over the open hand of the shadow. It flickers in and out, growing stronger, its warm orange glow slowly turning hotter and hotter until it is blue and then, all of a sudden, it is green.

THe sky above turns dark and fills with unfamiliar stars. Swirls of purples and blues paint the night and planets hover too close to where Khadgar is standing. Horns protrude from Medivh’s forehead, his skin is a dull grey, his body is too tall, wide wings spread behind him.

Khadgar wants to take a step back but he is rooted to the spot.

“You know you can,” Medivh says, his voice a deep rumble, fractured, like walking on hot coals.

_No._ Khadgar isn’t even quite sure what he’s refusing.

Green flames appear all around, casting their sickly glow all over the still scene. The Orc warrior, his weapon still threateningly raised. And Anduin, so obviously unable to dodge or par or protect himself in any way.

He is going to die. That is one fact that Khadgar is sure of.

“You can stop this.”

The flames now engulf everything around him, everything but the weapon and Anduin. And Khadgar sees as it surges forward, as it cuts into Anduin’s fragile skin, it buries deeply into his flesh, it tears. Blood floods out of the wound as the weapon is ripped away and --

Khadgar can’t watch anymore. Rage bursts out of him in hot flames, and suddenly he is the flame. He is burning everything in his way, swallowing it all up and turning it into ashes. He is a supernova - he is unstoppable.

Only when the whole field is burning, bright, green flames all around, does he stop, drained of all energy. He watches in silence as the flames die down, revealing scorched and rotting earth underneath.

The only man standing is Anduin. His clothes have been burned away and he is standing, naked, on the field. His flesh is clean and free of any wound. Even the scars Khadgar has traced the night before have disappeared until only white skin is left behind. He is standing in the field and looking around with wonder in his eyes. When he crosses Khadgar’s gaze, he smiles. Khadgar thinks he might be smiling too.

“You see,” he hears, and turns to see Medivh, back to normal, still too young - younger than he has ever seen him.

Medivh smiles too. Khadgar can’t feel anything but he thinks that he must feel satisfied and proud of himself right now. But underneath the numbness he feels, screaming in silence, horror.

“You can stop this,” Medivh says.

And Khadgar woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back from vacation and thus to writing. However, I will be focusing on another project for a little while, so updates of this specific story will be slower than usual. This said, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and have a good day :)


	24. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self harm, vomiting

###### Chapter 24

Khadgar closed the bathroom door behind him, breathing heavily, tears stinging his eyes. He had managed to leave the bed without waking Anduin, sleeping soundly, curled underneath the blanket. But now, Khadgar stifled his uncontrollable sobs, afraid that the sounds would wake him. He didn’t want him to see him in this state: panicked, trembling, tears flowing down his face. Khadgar gasped, feeling as if his lungs were far too small to keep him alive. His vision swam and he stumbled towards the sink. He retched, holding onto the marble white-knuckled.

Through the tears, he could see the little red specks among the clear stomach fluid, taunting him. He tried to reason that it could not be, because Medivh had cured him of the curse, but the evidence was right in front of him. He could not ignore it any longer.

He closed his eyes tightly, leaning over the sink. Despair overwhelmed him and tears came flowing again from his eyes. When he raised his head, he stared at himself in the mirror. He froze and felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.

His skin had turned ashen, blue veins visible through the flesh. He looked ready to drop dead. And, just as he was about to close his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of green gleaming in his irises.

He pushed away from the mirror and he tripped and fell down. The wall was freezing cold against his skin as he plastered himself against it. His breath came out in short rapid puffs and his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his throat. His feet and fingers were rapidly growing numb. Khadgar struggled to his feet and went to rummage through the cupboards. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a razor. Although it didn’t look very sharp anymore, he knew it would do the job.

Through the haze of his thoughts, some rational part of himself reminded him of the utter uselessness of his actions. But he was still unable to stop himself. He watched himself as if through a mirror as he brought the blade to his forearms, finding an unblemished spot. His hand didn’t even shake as he pressed the razor against the fragile skin and started cutting. A straight, clear red line appeared on his arm. The pain was but a distant sensation. The rush in his ears grew louder and louder and suddenly his vision swam.

The razor hit the ground, clattering loudly in the quiet. Suddenly, there was banging on the door and Anduin’s voice rang out.

“Khadgar! Are you alright? Let me in!”

Khadgar sucked in a breath that sounded more like a sob. He heard a series of sounds that he couldn’t make sense of behind the closed door. All at once, he was returned to his body and the full realization of what he had done slammed into him. Tears began to spill from his eyes and he angrily swiped them away. He looked up to see himself in the mirror. A bright trail of blood now glistened on his cheek. His eyes stayed a dull brown for as long as he looked.

The door swung open and Anduin appeared. Khadgar crossed his gaze, fear painted clearly on his features. He tried to hold his arm close to his chest to hide the damage but it was useless. It took Anduin all but two seconds to understand the situation. Khadgar expected anger, disappointment. Instead, Anduin’s expression grew impossibly kind and he said, softly:

“Oh, Khadgar.”

He took one ginger step forward and stopped immediately as Khadgar recoiled. He held up his hands and looked straight into Khadgar’s eyes, open and honest.

“We better take care of this before it’s too late,” he said, gesturing at Khadgar’s arm.

Khadgar inhaled sharply. His eyes jumped from Anduin to the wide open door, calculating whether he could run through it before Anduin reached him but the warrior was too close. As seconds passed and Anduin made no move to grab him, Khadgar’s breathing started slowing down on its own and his brain was cleared of the last of the fog. As soon as the panic receded, he felt the exhaustion take over his body. He slumped against the sink. Anduin was besides him immediately, holding him up.

Khadgar felt angry at himself for letting himself lose control so badly. All it had taken was a glimpse of green in the mirror which, he figured now the panic was gone, he had probably imagined. He had been half asleep and still influenced by images from his dream.

The dream…

He felt his heart start racing again and apparently, so did Anduin. He put his cold hand against his cheek, forcing him to stare at him.

“Hey, stay with me. Come on, let’s go sit on the bed.”

Khadgar followed placidly, too tired to protest. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep but just as he was sitting down and dozing off, more flashes from the dream came back to him. He sat upright, startling Anduin. He looked at him worriedly. Khadgar had half a mind to smile and reassure him but he couldn’t muster it.

“What’s wrong?” Anduin asked, kneeling by his side. In hand, he had a bottle of alcohol and a clean cloth.

While waiting for Khadgar’s answer, he poured alcohol onto the cloth and started cleaning the fresh wound. It wasn’t deep so would heal in no time, but Anduin did not want to risk an infection.

“Please,” Anduin whispered, once Khadgar’s silence finally made him understand he wasn’t about to open up, “talk to me.”

He begged him with his eyes but Khadgar avoided his gaze. He stared blankly at the wall, focused inwards at the swirl of emotions that he couldn’t access. He had grown numb ever since the panic had died out. He knew he was angry and disappointed in himself and a little bit at Anduin too. He wished Anduin could be angry too, could yell and blame him for having done this to himself. It would make things easier.

Instead, Anduin softly ran his fingers along the raised cut and, muttering something to himself, prepared to apply a healing ray of Light. Khadgar felt the burn before the light even appeared in Anduin’s palm. He jerked his arm away with a shocked gasp.

“Khadgar,” Anduin frowned, his tone momentarily slipping from soft to hard.

Khadgar jumped to his feet and, without a word, ran from the room. He could hear Anduin’s footsteps following him. He was understandably confused but Khadgar didn’t doubt for a second the cause of his reaction. It had happened before. When they had been in the chapel, Anduin had healed his leg. The pain had been insufferable but Khadgar had not understood why.

He reached the library. His books and notes were still cluttering the tables and floors. He stumbled and caught himself on the table edge, sending papers flying. He grabbed them and slammed them on the tabletop. As he scanned them, the words swam and jumbled, becoming incomprehensible. 

Anduin arrived behind him. He tried to put a hand on his shoulder but Khadgar moved, circling the table. He gathered the papers in a stack as he went, checking each one, muttering to himself.

“Khadgar. Stop,” Anduin demanded.

But the mage seemed not to even hear. He was entirely focused on his task. Although he knew better, Anduin only became more annoyed with him.

“Stop,” he yelled at him, “for Light’s sake!”

This at least got an answer from Khadgar. He looked at him sharply, expression so savage that Anduin took a step back in shock.

“This is for Light’s sake,” Khadgar seethed.

Anduin spluttered. “That doesn’t make any sense. What are you even doing?” he asked, pleadingly. “Please talk to me.”

“There’s no time,” Khadgar told him.

Just as he said so, he seemed to find what he had been looking for. He slammed his stack of paper back on the table and focused on the one sheet. He followed the words with his fingertip, reading the words under his breath. Anduin peeked at an elaborate circle filled with runes and words but he couldn’t understand it.

“What is it?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him even in the face of Khadgar’s anger.

Khadgar sighed. “It’s the spell I used outside.”

Memories from the day before rushed back to the forefront of Anduin’s mind. He remembered the lifeless place he had entered, the quiet and the not-quite-cold, unnatural or perhaps, overly so. He shuddered but Khadgar didn’t notice.

“You want to use it again?” Anduin asked. “Are you crazy? It called every single creature out there and they attacked us.”

Khadgar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you think I’ve forgotten?” He opened his eyes and crossed Anduin’s gaze. His features softened as he saw the anguish on Anduin’s face but he didn’t relent from his task. “I have to do this. It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what? You’ve already freed the ghouls, what more is there to do?”

“I have to cleanse the tower.”

Anduin frowned.

“It’s rotten,” Khadgar sighed. “Down to the core. Medivh thought he had gotten rid of the curse but that wasn’t the problem. The ill is still present, seeping into every stone, every book, every piece of wood in here,” he cried, gesturing to the room around them. “And it’s making me sick,” he finished in a whisper.

Anduin’s eyes widened. “Sick,” he repeated.

Khadgar closed his eyes again, grimacing painfully. “I wasn’t healed by Medivh. I’m still sick.”

Anduin felt as if the walls crumbled around him. Wind knocked out of his lungs, he blindly reached for a bench and sat down heavily. Khadgar looked down and stayed silent, letting him process.

“Why am I not also sick?” Anduin eventually asked.

Khadgar shook his head. “I don’t know. But I have to do something. There’s something very wrong in this tower. The magic isn’t how it’s supposed to be. And I think I know why.”

He waited for a few seconds for Anduin to ask any more questions but he stayed silent. Khadgar refocused on his spell. He searched for a clean sheet of paper, ink and a quill, and he started jotting down his thoughts. It was very experimental magic but he didn’t have the time to properly test it. His nightmare, his visions - it all came together to urge him to act as soon as possible. And he wouldn’t be stopped by Anduin’s nervousness.

Once he was satisfied with the spell, modified to cleanse the whole tower, he looked up. Anduin was staring at him, a storm in his eyes.

“What’s wrong with this place?” he asked him.

Khadgar bit his lip. Flashes from his dream taunted him: green flames, and green bursts of energy, and green eyes.

“I think it’s the fel,” he admitted.

Anduin nodded somberly.

“Do what you have to do. I’ll go get my gear.”

Although he wanted to tell Anduin to just go, walk as far away from Karazhan as he could, in order to escape the hell that he was probably about to unleash, he refrained. He knew there was nothing he could say to make Anduin leave him. Despite everything, it warmed him to know he wouldn’t be alone.

Anduin was back quickly. He had put on his leather armor and he had his sword in hand. Khadgar smiled nervously at him and he smiled back, much more convincingly. It gave Khadgar the last bit of confidence he needed.

“Are you sure about this?” Anduin still asked.

Khadgar considered being honest but he didn’t see the point. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t sure or that he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and pretend the world didn’t exist. He had to do this, to free himself of the fel’s influence and to finally be healthy again.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then, he started the incantation. He drew the sigils in the air, charging them with boiling arcane energy. They glowed and hovered in the air. A low hum filled the space. Anduin grabbed his sword more firmly and surveyed their surroundings, feeling uneasy.

As Khadgar spoke, the arcane seemed to come to life: lines appeared on the ground like lightning and glowing vines unraveled through the air, connecting in a rolling circle. Curious fingers strayed and reached for Anduin but he stepped back and avoided the touch. The view was so peculiar that he forgot about being wary and let his sword touch the ground.

However, the more Khadgar spoke, the more the air filled with electricity. Anduin shook himself from his stupor and realized at once that the hum he was hearing was actually the walls and ground shaking.

“Um,” he tried to get Khadgar’s attention, “is this supposed to happen?”

A particularly strong shock almost sent him sprawling on the floor. He had to lean against a bookshelf. Each new wave threatened to make the books fall out. The noise only increased, the hum joined by explosions, energy crackling around them. Anduin could feel it against his skin and deep into his bones. He gritted his teeth and tried, to no avail, to get Khadgar to hear him.

Khadgar kept shouting the words to the incantation, voice growing steadily louder with each word until Anduin had to cover his ears. He screamed at Khadgar to stop but he wouldn’t. The floor trembled so much that Anduin fell to his knees in order not to fall. It was as if the very foundations of the tower were being shaken by a giant, magical hand. 

When Khadgar finally reached the end of the spell, everything fell to a standstill. The arcane still hung in the air in an elaborate design, glowing with unreleased power. All sounds stopped, replaced by an eerie silence.

And then, the tower answered.


	25. The fight

The tower answered - wind howled, deafening, the floor seemed to shake, the windows rattled. Lothar grabbed onto a nearby bookshelf to stay upright. Khadgar stood in the middle of the room, looking around, suddenly unsure of himself.

"You must finish this," Lothar cried out over the sound of the wind.

The noise let down for a second and they both held their breaths. They were right: the wind was only the beginning of the apocalypse that unleashed itself around them. One shelf, untethered, slammed to the ground in a loud bang, making both of them jump.

The ground underneath Lothar's feet shook. He felt a rush of cold air and he turned around, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

A wraith floated right behind him. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Lothar too shocked to do anything but. Then, the wraith opened its mouth. Lothar reacted quickly enough to duck but the scream still tore through his head. He gasped in pain. He tried to turn around quickly enough to face the wraith but he noticed that it paid him no mind. It continued to slide towards its goal: Khadgar.

Lothar watched in shock as dozens of creatures appeared, sliding through the walls of the library, all congregating towards Khadgar. Thankfully, the mage noticed them in time to raise a strong arcane shield around himself. But he didn't attack, instead standing inside his bubble, staring petrified as the creatures gathered around, screaming and kicking. The noise they made was deafening.

Lothar shook himself out of his daze. He needed to take advantage of the fact the creatures didn't care about him. Khadgar needed to finish what he had started now. Obviously, feeling threatened, the ghosts and others of the tower had reacted, attacking the one who was actively trying to make them disappear. Where did the ghosts go once dispelled? The wraiths, zombies, poltergeists, trapped souls condemned to life on Earth for eternity, suddenly released into the unknown darkness that was afterlife - where did they go? What was beyond the dark veil of death?

Khadgar's eyes suddenly crossed his. They were wide with fear and helplessness. His lips trembled. Lothar tigthened his jaw, hoping to convey determination and hope back to Khadgar who looked seconds away from breaking down. He needed him to hold for just a few more minutes. He needed him to snap back to action.

He grabbed his sword with both hands, took a deep breath, and charged right in the thick of the gathering, yelling. He stared right into Khadgar's eyes as he did so and saw them widening. He saw without hearing that Khadgar cried out his name. Good, he thought. At least it will have made Khadgar react.

The next few minutes were lost in the frenzy of battle. Alerted by his shout, the creatures nearest him turned their attention to him. Suddenly seen as a threat, he became their new target. Lothar ducked and paried and tried to hit the ghosts around him but it quickly became apparent that he was powerless against them. Their anger must have made them immune to his sword. But he wasn't immune to them. Each screech, each swipe of ghostly claws, each ball of arcane energy that traveled through his body weakened him. Quicker than he wanted to, he found himself kneeling on the floor, breathing heavily, barely keeping the enemies at bay with his sword.

He was bleeding from multiple wounds and his head swam. Only survival instict kept him from passing out. He was surrounded on all sides. He couldn't even see past the masses of ghosts to Khadgar. Despair filled him instantly. But above the shrill of pissed off undead creatures, he could hear another sound: a monotonous yet determined chanting that resounded through the room. 

He smirked and whispered, "Well done, spellchucker."

Knowing that Khadgar was working to cleanse the tower of the evil spirits, Lothar gathered himself, drawing from his last reserve of energy. A great calm descended upon him. The next clawed hand that swiped at him he blocked with his leather-clad arm. He paried a vicious blow to the head with his sword and immediately retaliated. The creature, slashed in half by his blow, screeched in pain. Lothar gaped. He could hit them! With renewed vigor, he went back into the fight.

For a while now, he could feel heat pooling in his stomach, spreading throughout his chest and limbs. At first he tried to ignore it but it became more and more insistant until he had to pay attention to it. With a start he recognized it as the energy he had used to heal Khadgar: the Light! In the chaos of fighting, he had forgotten about it. Focusing on it, he tried gathering the necessary amount to heal his wounds. But he wasn't experienced enough and the huge well he could feel inside him seemed to explode. His vision was filled with light for a few seconds. He stumbled, unable to defend himself momentarily, but the pain that he expected as the ghosts would inevitably attack him didn't come. Instead, he felt a great relief settle deeply into him.

When the light finally receded from his vision, he saw that he was surrounded by his very own protective shield. The creatures surrounding him could not pierce through it. Blessed silence had replaced the terrible screeches and wheezes. With renewed energy, Lothar immediately set to weakening the creatures. His sword could go through the protective layer and deal great blows to his opponent. Not knowing how long this blessing would last, he didn't waste a second.

So busy was he with fighting that he didn't notice, not only when his shield disappeared, but also when Khadgar fell silent. Most of the creatures had been dealt with but still more were sliding through the walls, an unending wave of ghosts that congregated around Khadgar unless they were pulled into Lothar's murderous orbit.

"Lothar!" he heard Khadgar's voice cut through. He didn't let himself be distracted and dealt a final killing blow to the wraith he was fighting with. He turned to look at Khadgar, who regarded him with stunned appreciation.

"I'm ready," he read on khadgar's lips. He nodded sharply. He didn't even flinch when Khadgar sent a burst of arcane energy his way. It formed itself into a tight bubble that would protect him from harm. The mage looked grim and Lothar smiled at him encouragingly. He received a tight smile in return. Unease twisted in his gut. Although he trusted Khadgar with his life, he wasn't sure Khadgar had the confidence needed to perform this feat. He nodded again towards Khadgar, trying to convey all the trust that he felt in him. 

Khadgar let his shield drop. Immediately, the ghosts descended upon him with unleashed fury. Khadgar shouted at the top of his lungs, gathering more and more energy into himself. The ground trembled, dust was disturbed and fell in cascades around the room. The ghosts were almost on him.

Lothar pressed his palms against the mana barrier. Anguish twisted his stomach and he had to swallow as nausea shook him.

In a second, it became clear that Khadgar would not make it.

Across the room, their eyes crossed. Khadgar's face was a mixture of despair and indecision. He seemed to falter, his eyes shifting between Lothar and a spot behind him. Eventually his gaze settled on the latter. Confused, Lothar turned to look. He saw a black hooded figure standing against the wall. Dread filled him. He turned towards Khadgar and tried shouting but he knew his words were not heard.

The shadowed figure took a step forward. Without even a gesture from them, all the ghosts fell to a still, their features, for those who had any recognizable ones, were twisted in horrible screams and grimaces. Those with limbs had stretched them towards Khadgar, almost touching him. Lothar gasped.

The figure crossed the room, almost sliding on the floor. They reached Khadgar who was biting his lip furiously. Without hearing the words, Lothar knew that the shadow was whispering to him.

"No, no, no," Lothar mumbled. Tears gathered in his eyes. He slammed his fists against the barrier, trying to get Khadgar's attention.

When he finally turned to look at him though, Lothar wished he hadn't. His blue eyes filled with tears and he smiled at him. He moved his lips. Lothar yelled.

"Don't do this!"

Khadgar's eyes closed and a tear fell down his cheek. At once, his eyeballs were engulfed in green flames. His skin turned to ashy grey, his body was torn and twisted. His transformation was horrible to see. Flashes of Medivh's demonic body presented themselves to Lothar as he watched Khadgar go through the same process. As bony, see-through wings unraveled themselves behind Khadgar's back, Lothar knew they had hit the point of no return.

He cried and shouted, hitting and kicking the arcane shield with all his strength until his fists started to bleed. He gathered the Light in himself, aiming it at the walls, but it was useless. Lothar fell to the ground on his knees, absolutely helpless.

The shadow had disappeared - it had been a mirage, barely even a memory. It had only existed to twist the knife in Khadgar's opened wounds to throw him down a cliff.

When the ghosts came back to life, they cowered at seeing Khadgar's new appearance. He reeked with unlimited, destructive power. Fel energy started to seep and drip from the ceiling, it gathered in sinews on the ground, all flowing to the center of the room around Khadgar. It formed intricate designs on the ground which Lothar recognized with a jolt as the glyphs that Khadgar had drawn earlier.

With horror, he snapped his head back, staring at Khadgar. Had this been the plan all along? Had he realized halfway through planning that he didn't hold enough power to actually cleanse the tower of evil using the arcane? Lothar didn't want to believe it but he felt he had no choice… Khadgar had given himself over to the Fel, this terrible presence that permeated every single stone of the tower, that twisted their dreams and their hopes as long as they stayed here, without them realizing until it was too late. Did Khadgar believe he could control it enough to banish it? Use it to free all these trapped souls which haunted the corridors? Had Khadgar sacrificed himself?

As the final line was drawn on the ground and ceiling, the symbols started to glow so bright that they were only light, neither blue nor green but blinding. Khadgar's dark shape, with horns jutting on his forehead, horrible wings on his back, and legs like hooves, stood out, as if his darkness could battle the light. Right before everything was engulfed, Lothar could swear that Khadgar looked at him. And his eyes weren't green - they weren't even blue, they weren't even glowing. They were perfectly dull, the rich, beautiful brown shining with tears. Even though his mouth was stretched by sharp fangs, Lothar could guess the words that Khadgar wanted to speak, that he had said right before he accepted the Fel inside him.

"I'm sorry."


	26. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy feast to all of youse that celebrate, here is a gift

The whole room was engulfed in flames. Lothar kept his eyes open as long as he could bear, tears streaming from his burning eyes. The ghosts were tearing at the seams, blasted away by the force of the deflagration. Despite his best efforts, Lothar was swept off his feet. He went sprawling backwards, hitting the wall violently. Pain erupted in his head and he lost consciousness.

Slowly, the black veil in front of his eyes lifted, leaving only tiny dark spots. He grunted as he moved and pain overwhelmed him. The adrenaline still rushing through his veins was the only thing that pushed him to his feet. The room swam around him but he hung on and surveyed his surroundings.

The library was completely trashed. Not a single bookshelf had been left unscathed - they had all toppled or been squashed against the wall. It was a wonder how Lothar was relatively unhurt. Only one look around yielded the answer: a neat little circle around him had been left untouched. Yet another proof if Lothar needed one that Khadgar had not been entirely consumed by Fel.

Khadgar. _Khadgar_.

Blood rushing, Lothar looked around for the dark and towering form of Khadgar, transformed into a demon. But he didn't see him. Instead, his eyes caught on a shape at the center of the room, a small, huddled, brown shape - unmoving.

He ran to his side and skid on his knees when he got closer. He immediately put his hands on Khadgar, turning him around so he could see his face. The mere contact of his hands on Khadgar's clothes was scalding. Lothar pulled away with a pained hiss. He looked, crestfallen, at Khadgar's face. It was set in a painful grimace, patches of red stood out on pale, visibly clammy skin. His eyeballs moved erratically underneath his eyelids. With every breath his blue lips quivered.

Lothar felt a great exhaustion overwhelm him. He looked around the room, at the overturned tables, the destroyed books, the fallen bookshelves - looked at the destruction around him. Otherwise, the room was completely empty - void of life, and even death.

Without being attuned to the arcane, Lothar could still feel the difference. Maybe it was his sensibility to the light that made him aware of ghosts. It was only now they were gone that he realized how they had made him feel: cold, like there was an itch underneath his skin, like he was the outsider trespassing into their realm.

The spell might have worked, but at what cost?

Tears began falling down his cheeks, staining Khadgar's grey shirt. He wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms just to feel his weight against his chest, or just to be able to carry him to a bed. But he knew he wouldn't be able to touch him. Somehow, something in him reacted badly to Khadgar, or the opposite. He hung his head, and waited.

***

When Medivh arrived at the tower, he immediately noticed something was wrong. First off, he had been able to teleport inside the wards without any issue. He usually always felt a bit of a resistance, as if the wards didn't welcome his presence inside, as if they had developed a sort of mind of their own and recognized him as an intruder. Worried, he tested that the wards were still in place. He was surprised to recognize Khadgar's mana signature in the strong wards still tightly surrounding Karazhan. 

The second thing he noticed was the silence: eerie, profound, entirely unnatural. Karazhan had always felt… _off_. Ever since he had moved here after being appointed Guardian, after his long coma, he had been aware of it. Slowly, his soul had been twisted by the dark energies that lingered in the stones, feeding the demon that had lodged itself in his heart while he was still in his mother's womb. Medivh didn't like to remember the events of only a few months ago. The power that he had wielded while the demon still inhabited him had been exhilirating. But he had come so close to causing the death of all of his closest friends. His heart constricted painfully at the memory of Llane.

Karazhan today seemed unusually quiet. It felt like any other place, not special in any way, except for the powerful mana rivers that still ran deep under the ground, meeting underneath the tower, making it one of the most magical places in Azeroth. With each breath Medivh felt reinvigorated. The mana here was pure. Not until he had had his first breath of it had Medivh realized how tainted it had been before. But before what?

He hurried inside, cursing the stairs as he started climbing them as fast as he could. He felt even weaker than usual, his body still not back to its previous health. He burst in the library, out of breath and sweating profusely. He skidded to a stop, taking in the dismal state of the room.

"What in the world happened?" he exclaimed.

Lothar raised his head sharply: he hadn't heard him arrive. Medivh stared at him and Khadgar's unconscious body, darkening. He quickly crossed the room to reach them and kneeled by their side. He put the back of his hand on Khadgar's forehead. It was burning with fever.

"Come on," he enjoined Lothar, "help me lift him."

With a sob, Lothar answered: "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? We have to bring him to the bedroom."

"I can't touch him."

Medivh stopped trying to lift Khadgar and stared at Lothar. He seemed distraught, his eyes kept jumping from one target to another. 

"You mean… physically can't?"

Lothar nodded.

Medivh sat back on his heels, heaving a sigh. "Tell me everything that's happened since I've gone."

Lothar gave him an abridged version of the events, obviously skipping over some parts, according to his fumbling and occasional blushing. But his distress at Khadgar's state seemed to push him into being as truthful as possible. Medivh listened intently, growing more sour with every word. When Lothar described Khadgar's transformation, his worry turned into horror.

"I never thought," he started, but fell silent mid sentence. He cleared his throat and gathered Khadgar in his arms, noting the defensive way in which Lothar regarded him. "I'll teleport to the chamber with him, that should be possible now that this place has been thoroughly cleaned up. Meet us there."

Lothar nodded. Medivh waited just long enough to make sure that he was able to stand on his own before teleporting.

He placed Khadgar on the bed and went into the bathroom to wet some towels. He placed one on Khadgar's forehead. He hesitated in undressing Khadgar, feeling awkward towards Lothar. But he figured he would deal with the man, he needed to get Khadgar to cool down. He had covered Khadgar's naked body with a towel by the time Lothar stumbled into the chamber. He looked about to pass out and Medivh guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Lie down," he enjoined him," you've had a long day."

Lothar shook his head, turning to look at Khadgar.

"What's wrong with him?"

Medivh bit his lip. "I don't know exactly. I have a suspicion, though, if you care to hear it."

"Of course."

"I think he managed what I never did. He wielded immense power and instead of letting himself be consumed by it, he bended it to his will to do what he set out to do. This tower feels... new. I've never felt anything like it. Khadgar was crazy to think he could manage such a feat but, by the Light, he managed it."

"But he was…" Lothar swallowed. "He turned into…"

"Yes," Medivh nodded somberly. "So did I. I survived. Khadgar will too, I'm sure of it."

"Then why isn't he waking up?"

Ever since being covered in cold towels, Khadgar had calmed down. He looked to be asleep if not for the tiny crease in between his eyebrows and the occasional shiver.

"I'm afraid he is continuing the battle on his own. He helped me when I was consumed by Fel. I will do my best, but the most of the work has to come from him. I have no idea what's going on inside him right now but he is going to need all the help we can give him."

Lothar nodded. "How?"

"You've practiced with the Light lately, yes?"

He nodded again, confused. "I don't think I can use it on him, though. Everytime I have tried, he either pushed me away or was in terrible pain. I can't even touch him now."

"That's unfortunate," Medivh said, earning himself a deadly glare. "You should rest. He will need you later."

Lothar agreed silently. He lied down on the bed and closed his eyes. Meanwhile Medivh rolled up his sleeves and channeled his mana, ready to assist Khadgar in the internal battle he was waging against himself. He let his mind's eye roam experimentally inside Khadgar's body. He met tiny bundles of mana energy in his limbs, charged and waiting. Eventually he found it: a raging, knotted cluster of dark energy, deep in Khadgar's core. It sent out tendrils of darkness everywhere it could, attacking the healthy tissue and energy surrounding it. Despite the abundance of arcane in comparison to the tiny amount of Fel present in Khadgar's body, Medivh could feel how weak it was compared to the power of fel. Medivh concentrated his energy on the bundle of Fel. It immediately turned its focus on him and he grunted under the force of the attack. But he persevered, calling to his mind the memory of the feeling of Khadgar's energy dispelling the Fel when he had himself been caught in its snare.

***

Inside Khadgar's mind, a similar battle raged. Khadgar remembered the explosion before it all went black and he came back to himself in here. He knew he was trapped, surrounded by darkness the likes of which he had never experienced before. He tried to move only to find he didn't have a body anymore. He felt the presence of a foreign spirit surrounding him, as if permeating the walls of his mind. He felt disgusted.

"Give in," it seemed to say.

Khadgar resisted. He hadn't come this far to give up now. He braced himself and pushed against the walls of his consciousness. The presence rattled, lashing out momentarily, as if in punishment. Khadgar cried out but didn't relent. Still, the presence didn't budge.

Except for the occasional flare, it didn't move. Instead it stayed at the edge, barely perceptible, hovering.

Then, Khadgar tried to breach it. He traveled the whole length of his consciousness trying to find a way out. He could deal with the presence if only he had access to his body and his mind. But he was completely trapped. The presence covered every inch of the walls of his mind, turning it into a sealed box. Khadgar yelled as he found himself in the same spot. The presence, though it didn't actually change, seemed even more noticeable, as if it had extended through the little space. Despair started to fill Khadgar: he wanted to slump on the floor and cry, which was impossible. Instead he felt frustration building, inexorable, filling crevices he didn't even know he had until he was sure he was going to burst with it. 

He felt the tentative brush of a tendril against him and he shuddered. The tendril came and went back again, exploring. It lingered on him for a second before pulling back. Suddenly he felt a great warmth outside his mind that pierced through the shadow presence. He perked up, waiting to see if it would manage to bring it down. Bit by bit, Khadgar felt himself be filled by this warmth and suddenly it was his. He could overtake the presence now.

He gathered all of this new energy in himself and he rushed, launching himself in all directions at once, overpowering the shadow. As it crumbled and disappeared, he met the warmth outside, recognizing it at once as Medivh's energy. They met and joined for an instant before Medivh pulled back, lighting the way for Khadgar to come back to real consciousness.

Khadgar woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr aegwynnmagna  
> Twitter AwdyOgg


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